BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

0- 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


HEZEKIAH    BRAKE. 


ON  Two  CONTINENTS. 


A  LONCI  LIFE'S  EXPERIENCE. 


BY    HEZEKIAH    BEAKE 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


TOPEKA,  KANSAS: 

CRANE    &    COMPANY,    PRINTERS. 

1896. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  1896,  in  the  Librarian' 
at  Washington,  by  H.  BRAKE. 

All  rights  reserved. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED 
TO  THE   MEMORY  OF 

MY    WIFE, 

WHO  SHARED  MY  JOYS  AND  SORROWS 
FORTY-SEVEN  YEARS. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

I.  ENGLISH  REMINISCENCES  11 

I [.  CANADIAN  EXPERIENCES 41 

III.  EASTERN  OBSERVATIONS 47 

IV.  SOUTHERN  GLIMPSES 51 

V.  NORTHERN  OCCURRENCES 55 

VI.  MINNESOTA  PIONEERING    61 

VII.  MISSOURIAN  EXPECTATIONS '. . . .   117 

VIII.  A  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 120 

IX.  LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO 135 

X.  THE  RETURN  TRIP 103 

XI.  LIFE  ON  A  KANSAS  FARM 182 

XII.  A  STAY  IN  EARLY  TOPEKA 196 

XIII.  BACK  TO  THE  FARM 201 

XIV.  OUR  EXPERIENCE  IN  COUNCIL  GROVE 228 

XV.  CONCLUSION  .  .  .  238 


(5) 


PEEFAOE. 


THE  writer  has  made  no  attempt  in  this  narrative  to 
portray  partisan  or  political  life.  The  illusory  and  the 
dramatic  have  no  place  in  its  pages.  It  is  simply  the 
story  of  a  life  through  scenes  amusing  and  sorrowful. 

The  earnest  desire  of  the  writer  has  been  to  entertain 
and  instruct  his  fellow-men ;  to  urge  upon  others  the 
avoidance  of  the  rocks  and  shoals  upon  which  he  has 
sometimes  been  wrecked  ;  and  to  impress  the  grand  les- 
sons of  faith,  courage,  and  perseverance,  by  means  of 
which  Providence  has  enabled  him  to  triumph  over  ob- 
stacles, to  secure  a  competency  for  his  old  age,  and  to 
find  happiness  and  contentment  in  the  midst  of  toil  and 
adversity. 

If  some  of  the  readers  of  this  book  shall  profit  by  the 
lessons  taught,  and  thereby  become  stronger  men  and 
women  in  the  battle  of  life,  the  work  will  have  met  its 
reward.  TT  -g 


INTRODUCTION. 


THE  life  of  the  author  of  this  work  has  been  a  remark- 
able and  eventful  one.  Over  eighty  years'  experience, 
divided  between  two  continents,  has  afforded  him  many 
opportunities  to  study  the  phenomena  of  nature  and 
human  nature. 

The  opening  of  paths  for  the  feet  of  white  men,  the 
living  among  Indians,  cowboys  and  trappers,  have  often 
been  attended  by  loss  and  danger.  Travel  by  night  in 
lonely  forests  and  upon  frozen  lakes,  the  building  of  cor- 
duroy roads,  the  crossing  of  bogs  and  floating  swamps, 
narrow  escapes  from  death  in  the  lakes  of  Minnesota  and 
from  the  extreme  cold  of  its  terrible  winters,  have  fallen 
to  his  lot.  Crossing  the  plains  in  the  '50s  was  attended 
by  many  dangers,  and  to  have  seen  in  former  times  a 
human  being  burned  alive  by  Indians  did  not  add  to  the 
comforts  of  the  journey.  The  world  owes  some  recogni- 
tion to  the  efforts  of  pioneers,  and  few  recognize  the  value 
of  their  services  or  the  perils  through  which  they  pass  in 
order  to  make  civilization  possible. 

Within  my  knowledge,  Kansas  counties  were  arid  plains, 
over  which  roamed  the  wild  Indian  and  the  game  he 
hunted.  Later  than  this,  marauders  and  guerrillas  made 
the  State  a  scene  of  constant  danger,  and  even  civil  war 
penetrated  within  her  borders.  But  those  times  are  past. 
The  prairies  now  teem  with  populous  cities,  and  splendid 

-2  (9) 


10  INTRODUCTION, 

farms  may  be  found  where  used  to  be  the  Indian  hunting- 
grounds. 

As  a  farmer  and  stock-raiser,  my  experience  in  Kansas 
may  prove  useful  to  some  discouraged  person,  enabling 
him  to  work,  wait  and  hope  for  the  success  of  his  under- 
takings. While  as  one  who  has  watched  the  growth  of 
the  State,  its  development  from  crude  beginnings  to  a 
symmetry  and  beauty  unsurpassed  by  other  States,  it  is 
pleasant  to  declare  that  Kansas  is  in  step  with  the  march 
of  civilization,  and  that  the  trumpet  of  progress  is  for  her 
still  sounding  —  "Onward!  Onward!" 


CHAPTER   I. 

ENGLISH  REMINISCENCES. 

The  old  town  of  Sherborne,  Dorset  county,  England, 
noted  for  its  ancient  abbey  and  cathedral,  was  my  birth- 
place. I  was  born  December  4,  1814,  and  was  christened 
Hezekiah  Brake  in  the  Congregational  church  of  my  native 
town,  in  July,  1815.  I  was  one  of  a  family  of  nine  chil- 
dren—  six  boys  and  three  girls. 

My  father  was  a  manufacturer  of  sail-cloth  and  linen, 
and  his  father  lived  near  us.  My  grandfather  was  a  poor 
man,  witli  an  enormous  family  of  twenty-two  children. 
Through  the  benevolence  of  the  Earl  of  Digby,  of  the 
House  of  Lords,  he  had  been  given  a  piece  of  land.  I 
never  tired  of  hearing  of  this  great  lord,  who  lived  in  one 
of  the  grandest  castles  in  west  England.  The  great  parks, 
with  free  and  open  gates  for  all  comers ;  the  noble  swans 
sporting  on  the  large,  beautiful  artificial  lake ;  the  herd  of 
deer  in  constant  view,  and  the  Earl's  magnificent  gifts  to 
the  poor  of  town  and  county,  made  it  seem  to  me  like  a 
tale  of  fairy-land. 

I  could  not  then  understand  why  it  was  that  my  grand- 
father paid,  as  lord's  rent,  a  half-crown  a  year.  But  I 
afterwards  learned  that,  although  a  so-called  gift,  the  Eng- 
lish law  of  primogeniture  prevented  the  separation  of  the 
land  from  the  home  manor. 

The  eccentricities  of  my  grandfather's  influential  friend 
—  Earl  Digby  —  greatly  interested  me.  I  would  have 

(ii) 


12  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

been  surprised  to  be  told  that  the  time  would  come  when 
I  would  not  be  interested  in  the  English  aristocracy.  One 
instance  in  particular  used  to  please  my  childish  fancy. 
A  tedious  debate  had  prolonged  a  session  in  the  House  of 
Lords  until  the  small  hours  of  the  night,  and  the  candles 
(then  the  means  of  lighting)  needed  snuffing.  Earl  Digby 
was  asleep.  Rousing  himself  from  his  slumber,  he  said, 
"  Gentlemen,  I  have  an  important  remark  to  make."  All 
was  silence.  It  was  the  first  time  the  Earl  had  spoken  be- 
fore the  peers.  He  said  : 

"Amputate  the  redundancy  of  those  superfluous  lumi- 
naries." 

The  Earl  was  a  great  friend  to  the  High  Church  of 
England.  In  those  days  dissenters  were  pointed  out  with 
scorn,  and  u  Methodist  "  was  a  term  of  opprobrium.  Feel- 
ing ran  high  against  those  who  had  received  favors  from 
the  Church  of  England  and  had  afterwards  adopted  other 
doctrines  of  religion.  Especially  severe  was  the  verdict 
if,  as  in  my  grandfather's  case,  John  Wesley's  doctrines 
were  favored.  As  a  consequence,  my  grandfather  and  his 
large  family  were  reduced  to  poverty.  My  father  brought 
him  home  to  live  with  us  until  his  death. 

I  have  space  for  but  few  incidents  of  my  childhood,  but 
the  demonstrations  made  each  5th  of  November  left  an 
impression  upon  my  boyish  mind  too  lasting  to  pass  by 
without  mention.  When  I  was  ten  years  old,  I  partici- 
pated in  one  of  those  occurrences.  I  did  not  know  then 
why  we  rolled  tar-barrels  to  augment  the  blaze  of  the  huge 
bonfire.  I  supposed  it  was  to  have  a  jolly  time.  But  I 
learned  afterwards  that  it  was  to  celebrate  a  day  of  thanks- 
giving, not  only  for  deliverance  from  the  Guy  Fawkes  con- 
spiracy, but  for  the  perpetuation  of  the  Protestant  religion. 


ENGLISH  REMINISCENCI-:*.  13 

It  seemed  a  horrible  thing  to  me  when  I  heard  that  Fawkes 
and  his  conspirators  had  once  provided  thirty-six  barrels 
of  gunpowder  for  explosion,  in  order  to  destroy  the  offi- 
cial leaders  of  Great  Britain. 

Between  the  ages  of  seven  and  fourteen  I  attended  the 
abbey  school.  At  the  latter  age  I  left  school  to  assist  my 
father  in  his  business.  About  this  time,  linen  products 
woven  at  home  were  superseded  by  cotton  fabrics  made  by 
machinery.  After  struggling  three  years  against  the  mis- 
fortunes brought  upon  him  by  the  new  inventions,  my 
father  left  his  family  and  went  to  America. 

After  the  first  shock  of  my  father's  desertion  was  over, 
I  rallied  my  courage  and  secured  a  position,  three  miles 
from  my  home,  at  Milborne  Port,  in  the  counting-house  of 
a  Methodist  class-leader  and  preacher,  Reverend  Edward 
Ensor.  Through  his  encouragement,  I  taught  in  the  Sun- 
day school  for  several  months,  but  the  first  serious  impres- 
sions of  religion  experienced  by  myself  were  received 
from  a  local  preacher  named  Cox,  at  Stone  Chapel,  Mil- 
borne  Port,  Somerset.  The  thought  upon  which  the 
sermon  was  based  was  a  warning  to  young  men.  u  While 
he  was  trifling  about  many  things,"  the  minister  said, 
" death  came  and  life  departed." 

Fearing  to  trifle  longer,  I  joined  the  Methodist  church. 
I  was  only  twenty  years  of  age,  but  was  put  on  the  circuit 
as  an  exhorter.  I  shall  never  forget  the  audacity  of  the 
elder  who  sent  me  to  preach  in  some  of  the  new  chapels. 
I  remember  some  of  the  people  cried  when  I  talked  to 
them.  I  hope  they  did  not  forget  the  lessons  taught. 

I  soon  realized  my  lack  of  fitness  for  a  Bible  teacher, 
and  began  to  better  qualify  myself  for  the  sacred  work. 
On  my  knees  until  after  midnight,  I  might  often  have 


14  0^  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

been  found  studying  for  the  ministry.  Doctor  Dwight's 
"System  of  Theology,"  Doctor  Paley's  "Difficulties  of 
Infidelity,"  and  Baxter's  "  Commentary,"  were  the  most 
important  books  in  my  possession.  Perhaps  the  greatest 
aid  I  received  in  preparing  to  cope  with  infidelity  and 
teach  theology  was  from  my  actual  work  as  teacher  in  the 
Methodist  Sunday  school  at  Milborne  Port.  My  class  was 
composed  of  six  boys  between  the  ages  of  sixteen  and 
twenty-one.  Not  one  of  them  knew  a  letter  of  the  Eng- 
lish alphabet.  But  in  a  year  they  had  learned  to  read 
pretty  well,  and  soon  after  they  became  members  of  the 
church. 

Milborne  Port  was  at  that  time  a  borough  town.  It  was 
not  an  uncommon  sight  to  see  the  fighting  factions  en- 
gaged in  rivaling  each  other  in  securing  votes.  When 
the  members  of  the  Parliament  came  down,  fifty-pound 
cheeses,  huge  loaves  of  bread  and  great  barrels  of  beer 
were  rolled  out  among  the  writhing,  struggling  masses  of 
voters.  Thousands  of  pounds  sterling  were  often  spent 
in  this  little  town  by  the  aspirants  for  Parliamentary 
honors.  Milborne  Port  was  a  dilapidated-looking  place, 
several  hundreds  of  years  old.  Railroads  have  since  im- 
proved it,  but  at  that  time  there  were  none  in  existence. 
Its  chief  feature  was  a  glove  factory,  which  employed 
many  persons  of  both  sexes  from  the  adjoining  country. 
My  duties  were  to  examine  the  sewing  of  the  women  and 
girls,  and  to  help  pack  the  gloves  for  the  London  market. 

The  time  spent  here  passed  pleasantly.  I  had  taken  up 
my  residence  with  the  family  of  a  Mr.  Hobbs.  His 
daughter,  Miss  Harriet,  was  a  fellow-teacher  with  me  in 
the  Sunday  school.  I  fell  violently  in  love,  and  became 


ENGLISH  REMINISCENCES.  15 

engaged  to  her.  Arrangements  were  made  for  a  speedy 
marriage. 

Full  of  pleasing  anticipations  of  the  wedding-day,  I 
made  a  trip  to  Bath  for  some  necessary  housekeeping 
purchases.  Upon  my  return  at  night,  I  was  refused  ad- 
mission. Surprised  beyond  measure,  I  inquired  upon 
what  grounds,  and  was  informed  that  Mr.  Hobbs,  who 
was  ailing,  had  died  suddenly  that  day.  Before  expiring, 
he  had  made  a  dying  request  of  his  daughter,  which  she 
had  promised  to  grant.  The  promise  was  to  the  effect 
that  she  should  remain  unmarried,  and  devote  her  life  to 
her  mother. 

The  blow  fell  upon  me  with  crushing  weight.  With  all 
the  money  I  had  with  me  spent  except  a  single  sixpence, 
even  my  wedding  clothes  in  the  house  of  the  woman  who 
had  jilted  me,  in  a  fit  of  temporary  insanity  I  turned 
away  from  occupation,  friends,  home  and  religion,  and  set 
my  face  toward  London. 

I  remember  that  I  dreamed  I  was  sleeping  on  a  bed  of 
straw  that  night.  When  morning  dawned,  sore  with  dis- 
appointment, I  started  on  foot  for  the  metropolis.  It  was 
in  the  spring  of  1836.  There  were  no  railroads  in  that 
part  of  England,  so  I  could  not  walk  on  the  ties,  and  I 
had  no  money  to  go  by  coach.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
done  but  follow  the  hot,  dusty  road,  and  I  wearily  plodded 
on  without  stopping  to  think  what  I  should  do  when  I 
reached  my  destination.  About  midway,  I  paid  four- 
pence  for  a  bed  and  twopence  for  bread.  As  I  dared  not 
beg  for  fear  of  being  arrested  for  vagrancy,  during  the 
rest  of  the  way  I  ate  Swede  turnips  for  food.  It  was  not 
until  the  close  of  the  second  day  that  I  finished  the  long 
journey  of  one  hundred  and  ten  miles. 


16  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

In  spite  of  my  thick-soled,  hob-nailed  shoes,  the  flinty 
roads  blistered  my  feet,  and  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
journey,  I  suffered  more  than  I  can  describe. 

Providence  conducted  me  safely  to  my  good  uncle, 
James  Hyde,  then  a  resident  of  London.  His  wife,  my 
father's  sister,  gave  me  an  affectionate  welcome,  and  I  was 
employed  in  my  uncle's  livery  business. 

My  new  home  was  at  the  foot  of  Westminster  Bridge, 
on  the  Lambeth  side.  My  uncle  had  many  horses,  cabs 
and  carriages  for  hire,  and  was  a  proficient  veterinarian 
and  horse-trainer.  He  promised  to  teach  me  how  to  make 
an  honest  living,  and  to  bear  with  my  inexperience  until  I 
had  mastered  my  profession. 

I  borrow.ed  a  pound  sterling  and  sent  it  in  a  letter  to 
my  mother.  After  acquainting  her  with  the  particulars  of 
the  matter,  I  asked  her  to  collect  my  books  and  clothing, 
and  send  them  to  me  in  London.  My  other  property  I 
desired  her  to  give  to  my  false  sweetheart.  She  did  as  I 
requested.  I  never  saw  my  love  again  ;  neither  did  I  ever 
return  to  the  work  of  the  ministry. 

After  a  time,  I  received  the  following  letter  from  my 

mother  : 

"SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  April  15,  1836. 

"My  Dear  Son:  You  are  now  of  the  age  of  about  21  years  and  4 
months,  and  have  been  frightened  off  from  your  home,  your  employment, 
and  I  am  afraid  from  your  religion,  your  services  in  the  Sabbath  school, 
and  apparently  from  all  your  friends.  From  what  I  can  learn,  your 
sweetheart's  parents  —  through  the  death  of  her  father  and  his  request  — 
have  shut  you  out  of  house  and  home  although  so  near  your  matrimonial 
alliance.  There  may  be  some  reasonable  allowance  for  them  and  some 
providential  fatuity  toward  yourself.  Von  have  my  dearest  sympathy. 
i  have  safely  footed  it  to  your  uncle's  home  in  London,  and  as  your 
aunt  Mary  Hyde,  your  poor  father's  sister,  knows  that  he  has  gone  off  to 
America,  perhaps  never  to  return,  and  has  left  me  with  your  brothers 
and  sisters  to  care  and  provide  for,  she  will  surely  see  you  well  done  by. 


ENGLISH  REMINISCENCES.  17 

Your  Uncle  Hyde  is  a  good  and  capable  man,  so  I  advise  you  to  work  well 
for  him,  maintain  your  good  character,  and  you  will  insure  confidence,  with- 
out which  no  one  in  human  life  can  succeed.  I  thank  you  much  for  your 
consideration  in  getting  and  sending  me  the  20  shillings.  Very  neces- 
sary to  have  your  things  got  together;  it  is  a  large  box,  and  contains 
what  you  desired ;  the  furniture  is  given  as  you  directed,  to  your  Harriet, 
with  your  prayers  for  all  that  is  good  for  her  and  her  family.  I  hope  you 
will  safely  receive  the  box.  Write  me  as  soon  as  possible.  I  am  as  well 
as  can  be  expected  with  all  my  great  troubles.  From  your  ever-loving 
mother  until  death,  SARAH  BRAKE." 

I  now  found  myself  installed  in  a  position,  the  duties 
of  which  I  knew  but  little,  but  I  was  willing  to  work  and 
do  my  best  at  whatever  was  given  me  to  perform.  I 
worked  at  keeping  accounts,  and  also  learned  to  groom, 
ride  and  drive  horses.  It  was  customary  then  as  now  to 
tip  courteous  grooms,  and  the  shillings  thus  received  eked 
out  my  low  wages.  The  people  about  me  were  rough,  arid 
my  surroundings  poorly  accorded  with  my  past  experience. 
But  I  made  the  best  of  circumstances,  and  treated  the 
scorn  of  my  companions  with  silence. 

My  uncle's  family,  besides  himself  and  wife,  consisted 
of  two  boys — William  and  Duke  —  (the  latter  was  named 
for  the  Duke  of  Wellington),  fourteen  and  eighteen  years 
of  age,  neither  of  whom  was  a  Christian.  All  of  the  sweet 
and  hallowed  influences  of  my  peaceful  country  life  had 
been  rudely  swept  aside.  I  now  found  myself  surrounded 
with  employes  who  never  entered  church  or  Sabbath 
school,  and  who  seemed  ignorant  of  the  commandments 
issued  amidst  the  thunderings  of  Sinai. 

I  tried,  however,  to  stand  by  my  faith,  and  at  first  suc- 
ceeded. I  remember  at  this  time  attending  a  great  minis- 
terial association  in  London.  Exeter  Hall  was  full  of 
learned  ministers  of  the  gospel.  The  remarks  of  a  gentle- 
man from  Scotland  especially  interested  me.  He  said  : 


18  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

"We  have  come  here  by  many  roads  —  from  the  north, 
the  south,  the  east,  the  west.  Many  of  the  roads  trav- 
eled have  been  full  of  inequalities  and  stumbling-blocks. 
Nevertheless  we  are  here.  We  have  arrived  at  the  great 
metropolis  in  safety.  Hushed  be  our  differences.  Let 
our  highest  object  be  to  gain  that  higher  metropolis  for 
which  we  are  all  striving.  Let  us  quarrel  no  more  over 
doctrines.  Our  Redeemer  never  quarreled." 

At  that  time,  I  was  greatly  concerned  over  my  danger 
of  falling  away  from  religious  teaching,  and  I  thought  the 
gentleman's  speech  most  excellent,  as  it  helped  me  to 
understand  that  one  could  be  a  Christian  and  belong  to 
any  denomination. 

Aside  from  my  uncouth  companions,  the  novelty  of  life 
in  the  greatest  city  of  the  world  enticed  me  often  into  for- 
getfulness  of  all  but  the  enjoyment  of  pleasure.  Situated 
as  I  was,  near  Westminster  Bridge,  the  ruins  of  the 
burned-down  Parliament  buildings  were  in  sight,  and  the 
workmen  were  busy  driving  piles  for  the  erection  of  the 
present  edifice. 

Among  other  sights  then  of  interest  in  London  was  the 
Polytechnical  Institute,  where  I  laughed  at  Madame  Tus- 
saud's  wax-work  figures,  and  climbed  into  the  carriage 
occupied  by  Napoleon  the  day  he  was  captured  by  the 
English  general. 

The  British  Museum  did  not  interest  me  so  much  as  the 
Tower  of  London,  that  memorial  of  the  cruelties  of  by- 
gone generations  when  the  axe  was  considered  the  cure 
for  political  offenses.  The  great  amphitheater  was  oppo- 
site our  stables.  The  famous  horse,  Mazeppa,  which,  al- 
though thirty  years  old,  used  to  lie  down  at  the  close  of 
the  performances  as  the  curtain  fell,  was  a  prime  favorite 


ENGLISH  REMINISCENCES.  19 

of  mine.  Being  so  near  the  great  theater,  I  attended  the 
plays  very  often.  I  well  remember  the  night  the  building 
caught  fire.  Having  risen  early  to  attend  to  rny  duties  in 
the  stable,  I  first  saw  the  flames.  I  ran  into  the  adjoin- 
ing houses  and  roused  the  still  sleeping  people.  When 
the  street  was  full  of  scantily-clad  persons,  and  the  danger 
to  life  was  over,  I  looked  at  the  progress  of  the  fire  ;  as  I 
did  so,  the  great  chandelier  presented  to  the  theater  by 
George  IV.  fell  into  the  pit  with  a  terrible  crash. 

I  was  one  of  the  vast  concourse  of  sight-seers  in  West- 
minster Abbey  when  Victoria  was  crowned  Queen  of  the 
United  Kingdom.  A  mighty  throng  had  pushed  me 
along  until  the  coronation  was  over  and  the  crowd  had 
surged  out  of  the  building.  When  I  escaped,  I  had  lost  a 
shoe  and  stocking,  and  had  to  walk  home  across  West- 
minster Bridge  half  barefooted. 

The  Queen's  Horse  Guards  at  the  Admiralty  were  of 
great  interest  to  me.  One  never  tired  of  watching  those 
fine  six-foot-tall  fellows  in  their  splendid  uniforms.  But 
the  scenes  connected  with  the  wedding  of  Queen  Victoria 
left  the  most  vivid  impression  on  my  mind.  A  mag- 
nificent review  of  the  Queen's  troops  was  held  in  the  St. 
James  Park.  After  this  the  whole  city  was  splendidly  il- 
luminated in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

In  my  journey  up  the  Strand,  through  Temple  Bar,  and 
on  through  the  old  city,  I  lost  my  cousins.  I  was  so 
weary  that  I  fell  asleep  on  a  doorstep,  and  was  taken  into 
custody  by  a  policeman.  He  took  me  off,  I  think  to  Bow 
Street  station,  but  in  the  morning,  pitying  my  rural 
innocence,  and  sharing  my  sympathy  in  the  Queen's 
marriage,  released  me  from  custody.  My  own  disappoint- 
ment in  wedlock  came  over  me  afresh.  I  actually  envied 


20  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

the  Queen,  as  if  she  could  help  my  having  borne  mis- 
fortune, and  never  felt  myself  even  with  her  until  I  came 
to  America  and  was  naturalized. 

Meanwhile,  my  studies  in  horsemanship  progressed  rap- 
idly. The  first  time  I  rode  horseback  my  uncle  started 
me  upon  a  partly-broken  sorrel  mare  down  Belvidere  road 
to  the  foot  of  Waterloo  road,  by  way  of  Rowland  Hill 
Chapel.  The  mare  ran  into  a  livery  yard,  and  some  men 
then  drove  her  out,  after  which  I  could  not  hold  her.  I 
started  her  homeward,  but  she  ran  into  an  apple-cart  and 
upset  an  old  woman's  prospects  for  apple-selling.  The 
woman  yelled,  "  Police  !  "  I  broke  into  a  cold  sweat  as  I 
hurried  the  refractory  brute  homeward.  In  my  haste  to 
cross  the  bridge,  I  ran  over  a  woman  and  knocked  her 
down,  and  the  mare  went  on  and  into  the  stables.  Soon 
after  an  officer  appeared  with  a  summons,  and  I  had  to  go 
with  him.  My  jolly  uncle  paid  my  fine  of  sixteen  shillings 
for  "fast  riding  across  a  sidewalk,"  and  for  several  days 
my  experience  as  a  rider  furnished  fun  for  the  whole  force 
of  employes  about  the  yard. 

My  uncle's  knowledge  of  veterinary  skill  was  cheerfully 
imparted  to  me,  and  the  information  he  gave  me  has  often 
proved  invaluable.  He  was  a  kind-hearted  man,  but  his 
acquaintance  with  turf  sportsmen  often  led  him  to  liquor- 
drink  in ir.  He  would  then  try  to  remove  my  verdancy  by 
satirical  conversation.  He  little  knew  that  — 

itire,  like  a  polished  razor  keen, 
\VoimiU  with  a  touch  scarcely  felt  or  seen." 

I  tried,  however,  to  bear  it  patiently,  and  to  do  all  I 
could  to  repay  his  kindness,  as  well  as  that  of  my  good 
aunt,  who  wa>  like  a  mother  to  me.  Her  death  shortly 
after  is  still  a  sorrowful  memory  in  my  mind. 


ENGLISH  REMINISCENCES.  21 

I  soon  learned  to  ride,  drive  cabs  and  carriages,  and  was 
often  sent  to  take  ladies  and  gentlemen  through  the  me- 
tropolis. These  persons  were  usually  members  of  the  aris- 
tocracy residing  in  London,  and  were  often  cruel  to  the 
persons  serving  them.  An  incident  that  occurred  during 
my  service  with  my  uncle  will  illustrate  my  meaning. 
" Frank,"  one  of  our  coachmen,  came  home  early  one 
morning  nearly  blind,  and  too  faint  to  walk.  As  I  helped 
him  into  my  counting-room,  I  said  : 

"I  suppose  you  are  drunk." 

"No,"  he  replied,  "but  I  had  a  tight  coming  home  with 
the  Marquis  of  Waterford." 

I  found  his  statement  to  be  true.  The  previous  even- 
ing, Frank  had  taken  the  Marquis  to  Richmond,  and  re- 
mained with  the  horses  while  that  gentleman  entered  a 
baker's  shop. 

In  those  times,  bakers  kept  their  flour  in  large  three- 
hundred-pound  sacks  in  the  shops,  where  it  could  be  seen. 
The  Marquis  had  seized  the  baker's  wife,  and  thrust  her  head 
into  one  of  these  sacks  of  flour.  The  baker  being  near, 
the  Marquis  jumped  into  the  carriage,  and  threw  the 
coachman  a  guinea  to  induce  him  to  drive  more  rapidly. 
Frank  did  his  best,  but  the  man  beat  him  to  make  him 
drive  faster.  The  next  day  the  baker,  who  had  learned 
the  name  of  the  rascally  Marquis,  made  his  appearance  in 
court,  and  with  Frank  swore  to  the  facts  in  the  case.  A 
little  gold,  however,  released  the  defendant.  It  would  not 
be  so  easy  to  evade  the  law  now  as  it  was  then.  Money 
has  less  power  to-day  in  Great  Britain  to  protect  the  rich 
in  trampling  down  the  poor  than  it  possessed  sixty  years 
ago.  From  the  example  of  the  good  Queen,  English  aris- 
tocracy has  learned  many  important  lessons. 


22  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

After  remaining  with  rny  uncle  over  two  years,  I  per- 
suaded him  to  seek  for  me  a  different  situation.  He  con- 
sented, and  secured  me  a  position  with  a  gentleman  who 
kept  thoroughbred  hunting-horses.  The  duties  of  my 
position  consisted  in  grooming  the  horses,  and  following 
my  employer  after  the  hounds  in  the  proper  season. 
Lord  L.'s  town  house  was  in  London,  his  county  house  in 
Surrey,  near  the  town  of  Guildford.  I  followed  him  from 
one  place  to  the  other  with  the  horses. 

The  latter  were  fine  animals,  named  "General"  and 
"Rough  Robbin."  I  dressed  them  day  and  night,  a  suit- 
able dress  being  provided  for  the  purpose.  The  night 
dress  was  an  all-wool  blanket,  with  breast,  face  and  neck- 
hood  trimmed  in  scarlet  and  a  well-fitted  back-line  and 
surcingle.  The  day  dress  was  of  the  same  pattern,  but 
made  of  fine,  well-trimmed  linen.  Nicely  braided  mats  of 
straw  were  spread  in  the  clean,  airy  stable,  beside  the 
noble  horses. 

Lord  L.  was  afraid  of  "  Robbin,"  and  it  was  part  of  my 
work  to  break  the  high-strung  creature.  I  soon  taught 
the  horse  to  scale  ditches,  fences,  hedges,  and  wicket 
gates.  In  one  of  these  breaking  expeditions,  as  we  scaled 
a  high  wicket,  I  lost  my  hat  and  was  obliged  to  go  home 
with  a  kerchief  on  my  head.  This  so  delighted  his  lord- 
ship that  I  was  at  once  fairly  installed  in  my  new  position. 

About  this  time,  my  two  sisters  Priscilla  and  Athaliuh 
and  my  brother  Philip  came  to  London,  and  paid  me  a 
visit.  Obtaining  good  situations,  they  remained,  and  my 
sisters  afterwards  married  in  the  city.  One  of  them  in- 
troduced me  to  a  friend  of  hers,  a  beautiful  young  lady  to 
whom  I  paid  court  for  over  a  year.  For  the  second  time 
in  my  life  I  became  engaged.  Too  poor  to  marry,  it  was 


ENGLISH  nvMiNiscENCES.  23 

some  time,  even  with  the  most  careful  economy,  before  I 
could  save  enough  to  make  preparations  for  our  wedding. 
When  at  last  my  circumstances  would  admit  of  marriage, 
I  went  to  Clapharn  Common,  where  she  resided,  to  see 
my  destined  bride.  To  my  poignant  sorrow,  I  learned 
that  she  was  dead,  and  that  two  days  previous  her  corpse 
had  been  placed  in  the  old  cemetery  of  Whitechapel.  I 
am  incapable  of  drawing  on  my  imagination,  but  as  I  re- 
member the  anguish  I  suffered  at  not  even  seeing  her 
dead  face,  after  more  than  fifty  years  my  eyes  are  full  of 
tears. 

I  was  now  ordered  down  to  Surrey  to  prepare  the  horses 
for  the  chase.  Aside  from  sweating  and  grooming  both 
of  them,  I  had  to  especially  exercise  "  General."  He  had 
killed  his  previous  groom,  and  was  a  dangerous  horse.  A 
little  way  from  Guildford  is  a  low  range  of  hills  ;  they 
were  then  called  u  the  Hog's  Back."  This  was  the  start- 
ing-point of  the  chase,  and  from  here  to  Farnborough  was 
a  run  of  seven  miles.  From  the  Hog's  Back,  I  started 
"General."  I  tried  as  we  neared  the  turnpike  to  stop 
him,  but  failed  in  the  attempt.  Before  the  keeper  could 
open  the  gate,  the  horse  overleaped  it.  I  braced  myself 
and  stopped  him  on  the  other  side  of  the  gate,  but  in  so 
doing  sprung  a  bone  in  my  wrist  which  has  ever  since  pro- 
jected—  a  mark  of  the  labor  required  by  sporting-men  of 
their  grooms. 

After  a  few  days,  I  saw  my  first  chase.  The  quarry 
was  a  stag  provided  by  the  sportsmen  for  the  purpose,  and 
this  was  to  be  followed  by  a  chase  with  fox  and  harrier 
hounds.  On  the  morning  of  the  hunt  all  was  excitement. 
Horns  of  strong  beer  were  emptied,  the  stag-hounds  were 
held  in  readiness  and  the  noble  stag  turned  loose.  Fiery 


24  ON  TWO   CONTINENT^. 

horses  ridden  by  both  ladies  and  gentlemen  dashed  away 
in  pursuit,  eager  to  be  first  to  close  in  on  the  game. 
Lamed  horses  fell  behind,  and  thrown  riders,  splashed 
with  mud,  lay  and  sat  lamenting.  Many  of  the  actors  in 
the  scene  covered  more  than  fifty  miles  that  day,  over 
ditches,  fences,  and  hedges. 

When,  amidst  dirt,  fatigue  and  clamor  the  chase  ended, 
I  took  my  horses  and  went  home,  tired  and  disgusted  with 
the  whole  miserable,  wicked  performance.  I  was  not  long 
in  reaching  the  conclusion  that  no  Christian  gentleman 
would  have  assisted  in  such  utter  disregard  for  life  and 
property,  and  resolved  to  quit  my  employer  as  soon  as 
possible.  That  night  as  I  dressed  the  jaded  horses,  I 
thought  sadly  of  the  poor  farmers  whose  crops  were  dam- 
aged by  the  day's  work,  and  wondered  how  the  winning 
of  a  chase  after  the  Queen's  stag  could  reconcile  these 
people  to  the  loss  of  crowns  of  gold  in  the  hereafter. 
When  the  chase  for  the  hares  and  bold  Reynard  was  over, 
and  a  new  groom  secured,  I  quitted  Lord  L.'s  service  and 
walked  back  to  London. 

I  went  into  lodgings  the  next  day.  My  uncle  had 
moved  away,  and  I  had  no  friends.  I  began  at  once  to 
look  for  a  situation,  and  soon  secured  one  in  the  Strand 
near  St.  Clement's  church  as  coachman.  Doctor  James 
Scott,  inventor  of  the  stomach  pump  and  many  other 
medical  instruments,  was  my  employer.  His  family  con- 
sisted of  himself,  wife,  and  their  son,  Montague  —  since 
an  eminent  lawyer. 

As  I  had  no  care  of  the  horses,  (they  being  kept  at 
liverv.)  I  filled  the  place  of  a  general  attendant  in  the 
family  at  home,  and  also  attended  Lady  Scott  as  coach- 
man. She  was  fond  of  riding,  and  praised  or  scolded 


ENGLISH  BBMINIBCEm  Bfift  25 

me  beyond  measure  in  accordance  with  my  securing  or 
failing  to  secure  for  her  the  precedence  in  entrance  at  ba- 
zaars or  museums  over  other  dignitaries.  She  also  took 
great  pains  in  teaching  me  how  to  become  a  proficient 
waiter.  I  filled  up  the  odd  moments  polishing  silver,  beat- 
ing carpets,  and  traveling  over  the  city,  often  until  mid- 
night, delivering  medical  instruments  at  the  homes  of  sick 
persons.  When  I  had  a  leisure  hour,  humbly  trying  in  the 
midst  of  all  this  multiplicity  of  services  to  work  at  charac- 
ter-building, I  secured  tickets  to  the  Lord  Chancellor's  law 
lectures  in  Temple  Bar.  Dickens  has  immortalized  this 
street.  Its  gardens,  its  lawyers,  its  bewigged  and  gowned 
Chancellor  will  never  lose  their  interest  to  his  readers. 

After  six  months,  native  restlessness  or  some  other  in- 
fluence caused  me  to  quit  the  Doctor's  service,  and  seek 
elsewhere  what  might  be  in  store  for  me  by  Providence. 

Passing  along  Kegent  street,  well  dressed  and  newly 
shaved  —  for  although  looking  for  work  it  was  like  a  holi- 
day to  me  —  I  heard  my  name  called  by  an  unknown 
cabman.  The  man  was  ragged,  poor  and  forlorn-looking. 
As  I  neared  him,  to  my  surprise  I  recognized  my  cousin 
of  the  stables  near  Westminster  Bridge  —  William  Hyde. 
He  told  me  that  Duke  had  died  of  disease  brought  on  by 
drunkenness.  His  father,  too,  after  failing  in  business, 
had  died  a  victim  to  the  drink  habit.  As  I  looked  at  poor 
William,  I  saw  that  he  was  also  following  in  the  footsteps 
of  his  father  and  brother. 

"  Well, "he  said,  "what  are  you  doing?" 

"  Walking  the  streets,"  I  replied,  "looking  for  work." 

"Where's  your  kit?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  a  small  room  in  Drury  Lane,"  I  said. 

"I  am  married,"  said  William,  "and  have  two  rooms 


26  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

in  Standgate  street  over  the  bridge,  Lambeth  side.  Let 
me  get  your  things,  and  you  go  with  me.  This  is  my  cab, 
and  it  is  all  I  have  to  depend  upon  for  my  living." 

He  got  my  box,  and  took  me  to  his  home,  and  I  stayed 
with  him  a  week.  His  wife  was  a  pleasant  person,  but 
such  poverty  on  every  hand  I  have  seldom  seen.  I  felt 
myself  an  intruder  upon  their  distress,  and  most  eagerly 
sought  a  situation.  Hearing  of  one  in  Tavistock  Square, 
I  applied  for  it,  and  was  admitted  into  a  spacious  draw- 
ing-room where  I  answered  the  many  questions  put  by 
the  lady  of  the  house. 

"  Your  character  is  all  right,"  she  said,  in  conclusion, 
u  but  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  tall  enough.  It  takes 
height  and  length  of  arms  to  handle  dishes,  but  please 
walk  down  this  long  room  and  I  will  see." 

Chagrined  at  her  request,  I.  walked  down  the  room  and 
through  the  door,  and  the  butler  laughed  as  he  let  me  out 
into  the  Square.  Once  outside,  I  blamed  myself  for  tak- 
ing offense  and  perhaps  losing  a  situation  because  the 
lady  had  unduly  criticized  my  proportions,  and  I  resolved 
that  another  such  scene  should  not  occur.  With  renewed 
diligence  I  set  to  work,  and  after  reading  numerous  ad- 
vertisements, and  applying  at  different  intelligence  offices, 
I  at  last  learned  of  a  vacant  place  in  the  family  of 
Nathaniel  Gould,  Tavistock  Square,  near  Old  Oxford 
street,  where  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  make  an  engage- 
ment. 

Mr.  Gould  was  a  lumber  dealer,  who  transported  the 
products  of  Canadian  forests  to  London  ;  he  had  received 
many  handsome  silver  souvenirs  for  his  success  in  the 
work.  He  was  much  engrossed  with  his  business,  which 
received  his  attention  at  Barge  Yard,  Bucklersbury,  in  th 


n  the 


ENGLISH  REMINTXCEWK*.  27 

heart  of  the  old  city,  and  the  family  kept  as  few  servants 
as  possible.  For  this  reason,  I  wore  a  footman's  livery  at 
home  and  a  coachman's  livery  abroad.  It  left  me  little 
idle  time,  and  gave  me  much  hard  work,  but  my  stay  in 
Standgate  street  had  lightened  my  purse,  and  I  was  very 
glad  to  have  the  situation. 

On  Sundays,  carrying  the  prayer-book,  and  dressed  in  a 
richly-trimmed  suit  with  big,  silver  buttons,  I  walked  be- 
hind the  family  of  eight  persons  to  church.  On  week- 
days, when  not  otherwise  engaged  at  home,  I  drove  the 
fat  black  horses  with  the  family  in  the  carriage.  The 
horses  were  rat-tailed,  and  wore  false  tails  which  swept 
the  ground.  I  shudder  to  think  what  Mrs.  Gould  would 
have  said  if  one  of  those  showy  horse-tails  had  come  off  at 
some  fashionable  gathering.  Sometimes  Mr.  Gould  would 
spend  the  Sabbath  in  driving  his  family  to  some  suburb  of 
the  city,  and  then  only  was  I  free  to  seek  amusement  with 
my  friends. 

St.  John's  Wood,  Norwood,  Chalk  Farm  and  Black- 
heath  were  favorite  places  of  resort  for  Londoners  in  1842. 
As  coachman,  I  of  course  had  an  opportunity  to  visit  all 
of  these  places,  but  it  was  when  I  was  ordered  to  follow 
the  family  to  Brighton  with  the  carriage  and  horses,  and  I 
knew  we  were  really  going  to  the  seaside,  that  I  received 
my  first  great  pleasure  in  this  service. 

As  usual  in  those  times,  the  family  traveled  by  stages 
with  four  horses  and  two  postilions,  the  latter  wearing 
jockey  caps,  leather  breeches  and  top  boots.  Following 
Mr.  Gould's  instructions  to  the  letter,  I  reached  Brighton 
in  safety  with  my  part  of  the  charge.  This  popular  place 
of  resort  was  then  considered  the  best  of  English  water- 
ing-places, and  rents  were  very  high.  Mrs.  Gould  paid 


28  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

five  hundred  pounds  sterling  for  the  use  of  a  mansion  for 
three  months. 

The  change  from  the  turmoil  of  London  to  the  refresh- 
ing breezes  of  the  quiet  sea  was  greatly  enjoyed  by  each 
member  of  our  large  party,  and  by  none  more  so  than  by 
myself.  The  time  sped  all  too  swiftly  for  our  return,  but 
at  last  "  Bobby  "  and  "  Double  "  were  hitched  to  the  car- 
riage, and  as  on  the  way  down,  the  family  started  by  stage 
with  postilion,  while  I  took  the  team  home. 

Midway  to  London,  I  stopped  at  the  Crawley  Hotel  for 
the  night,  and  while  asleep  a  thief  entered  my  room,  re- 
lieved me  of  all  my  money,  and  left  me  to  pawn  my  watch 
for  my  board  bill.  I  was  half  starved  when  at  last  I 
reached  London. 

Mr.  Gould's  family  often  gave  princely  dinners,  and  as 
he  was  a  very  popular  gentleman,  and  gathered  a  fine 
class  of  people  about  him,  I  found  their  conversation, 
which  my  duty  as  footman  often  compelled  me  to  over- 
hear, a  source  of  education  to  me,  and  I  tried  to  use  it  for 
my  self-improvement. 

I  soon  grew  tired  of  this  place,  and  gave  notice  that  I 
must  leave  Tavistock  Square.  The  old  coachman  came 
back,  and  I  quitted  my  employer  witli  paid-up  wages,  glad 
to  be  free  from  such  servitude. 

My  sisters  were  still  in  London,  and  I  spent  a  short 
time  in  showing  them  about  the  city.  As  I  had  left  my 
best  suit  of  private  clothes  with  my  cousin,  William  Hyde, 
when  I  went  to  Brighton,  I  now  took  a  cab  and  went  after 
my  property.  To  my  sorrow,  when  I  readied  the  place  I 
learned  that  my  poor  friend  had  fallen  a  victim  to  his  appe- 
tite for  drink.  He  had  gone  to  that  "  bourne  from  whence 
no  traveler  returns."  His  helpless  widow,  in  the  lowest 


ENGLISH  REMINISCENCES.  29 

depth  of  poverty  and  ill-health,  had  been  obliged  to  see 
her  sick  babe  die  of  sheer  want.  Once  a  beautiful  brunette 
with  lovely  features  and  large,  dark  eyes,  now  with  eyes 
sunken  and  cheeks  pallid,  she  was  the  picture  of  sorrow 
and  despair.  My  clothing  had  been  pawned,  then  her 
furniture  sold  to  help  sustain  life  in  her  dying  child. 
Drunkenness  —  the  fiend  —  had  triumphed  after  all  her 
feeble  efforts,  and  as  usual,  had  led  his  victims  through 
scenes  of  disease,  misery  and  death. 

Dear  reader,  did  you  ever  witness  the  sorrow  of  a  be- 
loved, innocent  relative  too  late  to  be  of  assistance?  If 
so,  as  your  lips  trembled  and  your  heart  thrilled  with  sym- 
pathy until  floods  of  tears  relieved  your  overcharged  heart, 
you  experienced  some  of  my  feelings  as  I  looked  at  poor 
Mrs.  Hyde. 

This  occurred  about  the  time  of  Father  Matthew's  dem- 
onstration against  strong  drink.  The  vast  concourse  of 
people,  the  great  parade,  and  the  numerous  banners,  to  me 
are  connected  vividly  with  my  cousin's  death.  One  in- 
scription read  : 

"We  would  rather  eat  it." 

The  banner  displayed  below  the  words  a  huge  loaf  of 
bread.  The  demonstration  did  much  good.  Many  of  the 
best  families  ceased  to  give  beer  arid  gave  tea  instead  to 
their  employes.  But  the  temperance  agitation  came  too 
late  to  save  my  cousin. 

I  found  my  clothes  in  a  pawnshop  at  Mid  street,  Covent 
Garden,  and  redeemed  them  for  a  sovereign. 

After  a  short  time  spent  in  visiting  my  sister,  I  secured 
a  place  at  number  23  Hyde  Park  Square,  as  a  liveried 
footman.  Behold  me  now  in  a  white  pigeon-tailed  coat 
with  black  velvet  collar  adorned  with  silver  lace,  black 


30  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

plush  knee  breeches,  and  long  white  stockings.  Thankful 
for  the  change  from  Tavistock  Square,  I  remained  in  this 
situation  two  years. 

The  family  was  a  very  religious  one,  and  attended  the 
nearest  Episcopal  church.  The  old  cathedral  and  abbey 
at  Sherborne  were  Episcopal  institutions,  and  it  was  a  pleas- 
ure to  me  to  follow  the  familiar  religious  service.  The 
master's  name  was  Sir  John  H.  Beckles. 

Much  has  been  said  of  wealth  and  intelligence  against 
poverty  arid  ignorance,  in  regard  to  employers  and  em- 
ployes, but  I  never  felt  that  I  had  forfeited  my  inde- 
pendence in  becoming  a  serving-man.  Although  as  a 
non-property-holder,  I  had  no  vote,  and  therefore  no  voice 
in  the  government  of  my  country,  I  realized  that  all  enter- 
prises had  drawbacks,  and  that  service  at  least  had  few  re- 
sponsibilities, and  instead  of  complaining,  I  set  to  work  to 
save  my  earnings.  I  soon  began  to  lay  by  some  money 
towards  rising,  as  I  afterwards  did,  to  independence. 

In  the  summer  of  1843, 1  accompanied  the  family  to  St. 
Leonard's  on  the  sea.  We  traveled,  as  was  then  the  cus- 
tom, by  coach,  with  postilion  and  two  spans  of  horses. 
Making  ten-mile  stages  at  a  time,  we  soon  reached  the  re- 
sort in  safety.  The  journey  was  made  in  style,  the  coach- 
man following  with  the  carriage  for  the  use  of  the  family. 
A  splendidly  furnished  mansion  was  taken,  and  occupied 
upon  their  arrival  by  the  family  and  servants. 

The  sea  of  course  was  the  chief  attraction,  but  the  town 
of  Hastings  near  by  was  often  visited.  Its  beautiful  hop 
gardens  were  then  in  full  bloom,  but  the  greatest  pleasure 
we  enjoyed  was  a  visit  to  the  home  of  the  great  astrono- 
mer, Herschel.  The  place  was  called  Hearse  Green,  and 


ENGLISH  REMINISCENCES.  31 

overlooked  the  sea.     The  sun-dial  and  the  large  telescope 
were  features  long  remembered. 

The  return  home  was  performed  in  the  same  way  we 
had  gone  to  St.  Leonard's.  More  or  less  danger  attended 
the  ancient  way  of  traveling.  Haste  and  speed  were  al- 
ways demanded,  the  driver  being  expected  to  make  ten  or 
twelve  miles  an  hour.  Wheels,  horses,  even  the  postilions 
often  gave  trouble  and  caused  delay.  It  was  the  custom 
to  allow  the  men  liquor  on  the  way  home,  and  few  refused 
the  brandy  and  water  offered  in  intended  generosity.  Tem- 
perate principles  among  servants  were  seriously  endangered 
at  these  public  houses  on  the  way  to  and  from  London. 

The  next  expedition  to  the  country  was  made  for  the 
health  of  the  baby  of  the  family,  and  was  to  the  Malvern 
Hills.  From  here  the  beautiful  city  of  Worcester  was  in 
full  view,  and  the  bracing  atmosphere  of  the  hills  was  de- 
lightful. Myself  and  the  maid  attendants  accompanied 
Lady  H.  Beckles.  A  female  donkey,  milked  twice  a  day 
in  the  kitchen,  provided  milk  for  the  sick  child.  "Jennie  " 
became  such  a  friend  of  mine  that  she  often  followed  me 
down  to  the  postoffice.  The  recovery  of  the  child  being 
accomplished,  we  returned  to  the  city. 

The  real  arrangements  for  the  summer  were  now  made. 
We  went  to  visit  the  spa  waters  at  Cheltenham.  A  rail- 
road had  been  constructed  to  that  town,  and  for  the  first 
time  we  all  went  on  the  cars  to  our  destination.  The 
charming  walks  and  drives,  as  well  as  the  healthful  spa 
waters  at  this  lovely  place,  made  the  three  months  of  our 
sojourn  pass  all  too  quickly. 

The  inevitable  return  to  London  was  hardly  completed 
until  the  usual  round  of  balls,  shopping  and  visiting  be- 
gan. Then,  as  now,  fashionable  people  spent  the  whole 


32  ON  TWO   CONTIM-:\T-. 

round  of  existence  in  an  unending,  fruitless  pursuit  after 
the  unattainable  in  this  world  —  perfect  happiness. 

But  to  me  the  balls  given  and  attended  were  very  amus- 
ing. At  one  of  these,  as  the  weather  was  damp,  rolls  of 
matting  were  stretched  from  the  entrance  to  the  carriage- 
way. Link-men  holding  lights  called  the  carriages,  about 
fifty  of  which  were  in  waiting  for  the  guests,  and  the  ladies 
walked  to  them  dryshod  on  the  matting. 

Lady  H.  Beckles  was  a  true  lady,  and  always  treated 
me  with  the  utmost  kindness  and  respect.  In  her  home, 
visitors  always  appeared  before  ten  o'clock.  Elegantly 
attired  in  livery,  wearing  white  gloves,  it  was  my  duty  to 
usher  into  her  presence  the  callers,  or  to  present  upon  a 
silver  waiter  the  cards  or  letters  received.  At  two  in  the 
afternoon,  the  carriage  was  called  and  the  family  driven 
about  for  the  daily  ride.  We  usually  drove  in  Rotten 
Row,  where  the  most  elegant  equipages  were  daily  seen. 

A  dinner  in  those  days  was  a  very  elaborate  affair,  and 
one  given  over  fifty  years  ago  may  interest  my  readers. 
At  this  dinner,  served  to  a  select  party  of  twelve  friends,  I 
performed  the  duties  of  butler,  and  overhauled  the  plate, 
under  my  care  in  the  pantry  adjoining  my  bedroom,  for 
use  at  the  dinner.  It  consisted  of  a  vast  quantity  of  both 
gold  and  silver  plate,  heirlooms  of  two  old  families.  To 
clean  and  polish  enough  for  the  occasion  required  the 
most  of  three  days  and  nights.  All  of  the  plate  bore  the 
family  crest  —  the  "hand  and  dagger."  The  order  con- 
sisted of  four  dozen  solid  silver  forks,  four  dozen  silver 
steel  knives,  (silver  knives  being  then  made  so  dull,  they 
were  a  little  worse  nuisance  than  at  present,  and  were  not 
used,)  five  dozen  spoons,  large  and  small,  and  one  dozen 
handsome  silver  napkin-rings.  There  was  also  to  be  a 


ENGLISH  BEMINI8OBNOE8.  3£ 

great  epergne  for  the  center  of  the  table,  flanked  by  large, 
beautiful  vases  ;  the  latter  were  for  ices  and  rare  old  wines. 
Two  of  the  corners  of  the  long  table  were  furnished  witli 
eight  large  covered  dishes,  with  many  larger  covers  for 
the  heavier  viands.  Two  immense  chandeliers  with  six 
silver  branches  for  the  reception  of  the  large  wax  candles 
which  lighted  the  table,  were  suspended  over  it ;  another 
of  the  same  description  hung  over  the  sideboard  in  the 
dining-room.  A  twenty -pound  solid  silver  salver  orna- 
mented this  sideboard,  with  a  smaller  one  either  side  of 
this  monster  of  a  center-piece. 

The  caterer  and  waiters  came  from  Oxford  street.  The 
following  bill  of  fare  prepared  by  him  was  served  at  the 
dinner  : 

FIRST    COURSE. 

Soups. 
Soup  Italienne.  Mock  Turtle. 

Fish. 
Cod  Head,  Baked.  Fillets  of  Soles. 

Entrees. 

Suprene  of  Fowls.  Mutton  Cutlets. 

Oyster  Patties.  Fillets  of  Woodcock. 

SECOND    COURSE. 

Roasts. 
Roast  Beef.  Roast  Hare. 

Removes. 
Briocke  and  Pamison  Cheese.  Souffle  of  Chocolate. 

Entreements. 
Mushrooms  a  la  Provengale.  Scalloped  Oysters. 

DESSERT. 

German  Apples.  Jellies. 

Tarts.  Candied  Grapes. 

A  few  days  after  this  dinner,  my  sister  Priscilla  came 
with  my  mother  to  visit  me.  I  had  not  seen  the  latter  for 
several  years,  and  in  my  eagerness  to  see  her  I  went  out 


34  0^  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

to  the  carriage  in  my  livery.  My  sister  pointed  me  out  to 
her.  To  my  great  chagrin,  I  heard  my  mother  say : 

"There  goes  a  fine  popinjay." 

She  had  never  known  the  humiliation  attached  to  such 
service. 

My  mother  was  hardly  gone  when  Sir  John  received 
word  that  he  had  lost  a  lot  of  slaves  in  Demarara.  They 
had  been  emancipated  and  his  plantation  was  ruined. 
Knowing  that  he  was  obliged  to  make  some  retrenchments, 
and  fearing  that  I  was  one  of  the  persons  with  whose 
service  he  might  dispense,  I  gave  warning  and  soon  after 
quitted  the  situation.  Not  in  the  least  discouraged  at  be- 
ing out  of  employment,  I  set  to  work  and  soon  found  a 
place  as  footman  in  a  family  consisting  of  an  old  gentle- 
man over  eighty  years  of  age,  and  a  lady.  They  resided 
in  Mayfair  near  Park  Lane,  and  as  the  butler  gave  most 
of  his  time  to  his  master,  Mr.  E.,  a  great  deal  of  heavy 
work  fell  upon  my  shoulders. 

Mr.  E.  was  a  very  eccentric  character.  He  had  been  a 
great  London  barrister,  whose  efforts  had  been  crowned 
with  success,  but  he  was  now  an  avowed  infidel.  Although 
generous  to  his  servants,  he  was  very  hard  to  please. 
Something  of  a  philosopher,  he  insisted  that  a  man  might 
live  to  the  age  of  Methusaleh  if  he  did  not  have  to  bear 
with  a  set  of  fools  who  would  not  lower  the  top-sashes  in 
his  room  and  let  out  the  carbon  di-oxide.  Five  days  out 
of  seven  he  would  order  the  carriage  and  drive  in  the  park 
or  go  to  St.  James's  Club  House.  The  lady  went  in  the 
carriage  with  him  in  the  park,  and  as  footman  I  had  to 
stand  up  at  the  back,  exhibiting  my  black-and-white  livery 
in  all  sorts  of  weather. 

Sometimes  Mr.  E.  attended  a  ball,  and  the  coachman 


i-:x<;  i.  is ii  n EMI \/s<  'i<:\<  '/•>'.  35 

and  myself  waited  outside  for  his  return.  It  was  custom- 
ary, in  order  to  shorten  the  time,  for  the  waiting-men  to 
go  off  to  the  nearest  gin  palace  after  a  pot  of  porter.  One 
night  the  coachman  drove  off  for  this  purpose,  with  sev- 
eral others  of  his  class,  and  while  gone  the  link-men,  whose 
duty  it  was  to  do  so,  called  the  carriage.  Mr.  E.  took  a 
cab  and  went  home.  Upon  our  return,  frightened  nearly 
to  death  at  the  certainty  of  our  discharge,  we  hurried  after 
him.  On  entering  the  house  the  butler  said  : 

"I  tell  you,  Brake,  you  had  better  go  up  to  his  room." 

I  went,  trembling  at  the  thought  of  the  old  gentleman's 
wrath  over  being  obliged  to  call  a  cab  while  his  coachman 
and  footman  rode  in  his  carriage,  up  the  stairs  and  knocked 
at  his  door. 

"  Come  in  !  "  he  thundered. 

I  went  in,  bowing  and  apologizing. 

"  Go  away  to  bed  !  "  he  shouted.  "  Don't  I  know  that 
you  cared  nothing  about  me  and  went  to  sleep  in  the  car- 
riage ?  I  could  not  expect  anything  else  of  two  ignoram- 
uses." 

I  went  down-stairs,  leaving  Mr.  E.  shouting  for  the 
butler. to  come  and  open  his  windows,  and  that  was  the 
last  I  heard  of  the  matter. 

Lord  and  Lady  Lennigan,  of  Fogerty  Castle,  Ireland, 
came  to  visit  Mr.  E.,  who  was  Lady  L.'s  father,  and  soon 
after  Clifton  Heights  were  selected  as  the  attraction  for 
the  summer.  The  pretty  little  town  of  Clifton,  in  Glouces- 
tershire, on  the  banks  of  the  River  Severn,  and  near  to 
Bath  —  the  cleanest  city  in  England  —  was  a  most  delight- 
fully healthy  place.  We  found  much  here  to  interest  us. 
A  basket  upon  ropes  suspended  from  height  to  height 
formed  a  unique  ferry  by  which  passengers  crossed  the 


36  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

river.  Strolling  along  the  green  banks  of  the  Severn,  we 
once  saw  the  prototype  of  Dickens's  Fat  Boy  lying  on  the 
grass. 

"What  makes  you  so  fat? "  asked  Mr.  E. 

"Not  eating  and  drinking,  sir,"  replied  the  fat  boy. 

"What  then?  "  asked  Mr.  E. 

"Happiness  and  contentment,"  was  the  reply. 

Mr.  E.  gave  him  a  shilling  for  his  wit,  and  the  lazy  ras- 
cal did  not  even  get  np  to  thank  him. 

Once  we  met  a  schoolmaster  with  about  fifty  pupils,  on 
some  botanical  excursion.  The  old  gentleman  asked  him 
what  he  taught  them.  The  schoolmaster  replied  : 

"  I  teach  them  not  only  the  letter  of  the  Word,  but  the 
spirit  and  meaning  thereof." 

"Teach  them  above  everything  to  have  common-sense,'' 
growled  my  irascible  employer. 

After  awhile  I  grew  tired  of  constant  attendance  upon 
an  infidel,  and  resolved  to  seek  service  with  more  religious 
people.  I  was  fortunate  enough  soon  after  to  secure  a 
situation  with  a  wealthy  Christian  family.  Providence 
must  have  guided  me,  for,  listening  to  reading  and  prayers 
twice  a  day  not  only  helped  me  to  shake  off  the  irreligious 
influences  of  my  past  home,  but  here  I  met  a  lovely  young 
woman,  refined  and  gentle,  who  at  this  time  was  a  domes- 
tic in  the  family  of  my  new  employer.  Aside  from  her 
native  graces,  she  was  an  adept  in  the  art  of  cookery,  hav- 
ing studied  under  Francatelli,  Queen  Victoria's  serving- 
man.  The  family  held  Charlotte  in  the  highest  esteem. 
She  was,  though  poor,  of  a  good  old  English  family.  Her 
father  was  a  quaint  but  sturdy  Englishman,  and  her  only 
sister  was  the  wife  of  Lord  Crump.  After  the  lapse  of 
many  years,  again  I  fell  in  love  —  this  time  with  Charlotte 


ENGLISH  REMiyisCKXCK*.  37 

Cranham,  the  cook,  and  at  last  the  course  of  true  love  ran 
smoothly.  I  now  resolved  to  retain  this  situation  until  by 
careful  economy  I  could  save  enough  money  to  enable  me 
to  marry  and  cross  the  ocean  in  search  of  a  home  in  free 
America. 

Spring  came,  and  the  usual  annual  trip  to  Hastings  was 
made  by  the  B.  family.  Our  party  was  a  large  one.  There 
were  six  of  the  family,  two  maids,  and  myself.  We 
traveled  in  two  coaches  with  four  span  of  horses.  On  the 
way  down  an  accident  occurred  :  the  horses  gave  out. 
We  were  fortunate  enough  to  find  an  omnibus  in  the  vil- 
lage where  we  halted  ;  I  procured  four  fresh  horses,  and 
again  we  started.  We  had  gone  only  a  few  miles  when 
one  of  the  wheels  burst  into  a  blaze.  I  was  obliged  to 
p  ut  the  family  out  of  the  carriage  and  get  another  wheel 
before  we  could  proceed  on  our  journey. 

From  Hastings  I  wrote  my  first  letter  to  Charlotte,  who 
h  ad  been  left  behind  to  keep  house.  As  she  fancied  soles, 
and  this  was  a  great  place  for  them,  I  procured  a  basket- 
ful and  sent  them  to  her.  Of  course  she  had  to  write  and 
thank  me  for  the  fish,  and  also  send  good  wishes  for  my 
safe  home-coming. 

Upon  our  return  to  the  city,  I  told  the  B.  family  that 
my  mother,  who  still  resided  in  Sherborne,  wished  to  see 
m  e,  as  she  had  heard  from  one  of  my  sisters  in  London 
th  at  I  was  going  to  America.  I  also  stated  that  I  must 
leave  their  service,  which  I  did  a  week  later.  Leaving 
my  effects  in  the  care  of  my  sweetheart,  I  took  the  train 
for  Southampton,  and  from  there  walked  across  to  my 
n  ative  home. 

After  our  greetings  were  over,  I  told  my  mother  that  I 


38  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

thought  of  marriage,  but  was  not  sure  I  liked  the  idea  of 
a  speedy  wedding.  She  replied  : 

"  Why,  my  son,  you  are  old  enough  to  marry  ;  you  will 
be  thirty-two  in  two  months  —  on  the  fourth  of  December. 
You  have  been  single  too  long.  When  I  know  you  are 
settled  I  shall  feel  more  comfortable  about  you." 

That  decided  the  matter.  I  resolved  to  marry  upon  my 
return  to  London. 

I  spent  a  week  in  Dorset  county.  While  there,  as  I 
was  on  the  way  home  from  visiting  some  old  acquaint- 
ances, a  big  fellow  accosted  me  : 

"Well,  Hezekiah,  do  you  know  me?  " 

"No,"  I  answered. 

"lam  Jacob  Bugler,"  he  answered;  "you  taught  me 
my  letters  in  the  Milborne  Port  Sunday-school.  I  am  now 
a  Methodist  preacher,  and  I  owe  my  success  to  you." 

The  incident  affected  me  with  gratitude.  I  was  thank- 
ful that  my  short  stay  in  the  ministry  had  borne  some  fruit. 

The  thought  of  the  expenses  attending  matrimony  made 
me  economical,  and  for  the  second  time  I  walked  to  Lon- 
don. It  was  poor  economy,  for  in  so  doing,  I  wore  out  a 
pair  of  shoes.  I  was  now  out  of  work,  and  upon  reaching 
the  city  I  bought  out  a  coffee-shop,  which  I  kept  by  myself 
until  Christinas  day,  1846,  when  I  was  married  to  Char- 
lotte. 

We  had  little  time  for  honeymoon  pleasures.  We  could 
not  afford  even  a  short  wedding  trip.  I  could  not  leave 
my  shop,  when  rents,  hired  help  and  gas  would  consume 
all  of  my  profits  during  my  absence.  My  wife,  Charlotte, 
came  to  my  aid  at  once.  We  took  hold  of  the  matrimonial 
rope,  and  for  forty-seven  years,  until  death  snapped  the 
cord  and  separated  us,  we  pulled  together. 


ENG  LISH  R EMINISCENCES ,  3  9 

After  two  months'  experience  and  some  loss  of  money, 
we  sold  out  the  business,  resolved  to  complete  my  long- 
cherished  design  of  going  to  America — "the  land  of  the 
frae  and  the  home  of  the  brave."  My  brother  Philip  and 
my  sisters  Priscilla  and  Athaliah,  then  Mrs.  Thomas  Hinds 
and  Mrs.  Charles  Garrett,  were  still  living  in  London.  We 
spent  a  short  time  visiting  them  before  leaving  England, 
and  then  prepared  to  cross  the  Atlantic. 

A  sailing  vessel  named  the  Royal  Albert  was  about  to 
leave  for  Quebec,  and  in  April,  1847,  we  decided  to  sail 
by  it  to  Quebec,  Canada,  and  go  from  there  to  the  United 
States.  We  hastily  made  the  necessary  arrangements  con- 
cerning our  baggage,  and  set  sail  from  London  the  first 
day  of  May,  1847. 

Two  months  were  consumed  in  our  passage  from  the 
London  docks  to  Quebec.  It  was  the  period  of  the  terri- 
ble ship  fever,  when  many  vessels  lost  their  passengers ; 
but,  although  there  was  much  sickness  aboard,  we  had  no 
deaths  on  our  ship.  A  babe  was  born  to  a  German  lady 
during  the  voyage,  and  we  were  all  proud  of  the  little  ex- 
tra passenger.  I  only  suffered  three  days  of  sea-sickness, 
and  gained  in  weight  ten  pounds  during  the  voyage,  but 
my  poor  wife  nearly  died  of  nausea. 

On  the  banks  of  Newfoundland  we  were  fog-bound,  and 
drifted  for  an  entire  week.  During  the  fog,  a  passing 
schooner  ran  into  us  and  tore  away  our  jib-boom,  doing 
considerable  damage,  besides  shaking  up  and  frightening 
all  of  the  passengers.  I  happened  to  be  the  first  to  see 
the  passing  vessel :  its  coming  looked  to  me  like  a  broad- 
side. I  hastily  gave  the  captain  the  alarm,  and  lie  ordered 
the  life-boats  down,  but  we  fortunately  escaped  shipwreck. 
After  much  noise,  blowing  of  horns,  and  playing  of  bands 


40  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

by  the  Germans  on  board,  the  dense  fog  at  last  broke, 
and  to  our  horror  we  saw  that  we  had  drifted  near  the 
bleak  shores  of  Labrador.  The  captain  turned  deadly  pale 
at  our  recent  danger,  and  ordered  the  ship  about.  Al- 
though it  was  the  month  of  June,  ice  and  white  frost  were 
in  sight.  By  skillful  management  we  got  out  to  sea  again, 
where  we  were  safe  from  grounding  upon  reefs.  But  a 
month  had  passed  away  ;  we  had  gone  out  of  our  course, 
and  were  still  far  from  our  destination.  Now  the  two 
hundred  Germans  on  board  were  out  of  provisions,  and 
all  of  the  passengers  fell  short  of  water.  There  was  dan- 
ger of  serious  distress. 

The  captain  ordered  the  steward  to  allow  the  Germans 
only  one  sea  biscuit,  and  each  passenger  a  quart  of  water 
daily.  Shifted  about  by  contrary  winds,  we  were  filled 
with  great  anxiety  for  fear  of  possible  starvation  on  the 
high  seas. 


HEZEKIAH    BRAKE. 
(At  the  :iiri-  of  :«  years.) 


CHAPTER  II. 

CANADIAN  EXPERIENCES. 

We  entered  Quebec  on  a  Sunday,  and  found  a  jolly  peo- 
ple ;  as  we  passed  many  houses  we  could  hear  the  sound 
of  music  and  dancing.  Of  French  descent,  Roman  Cath- 
olics in  religion,  they  had  probably  attended  religious 
services,  made  confession,  and  now,  at  ease  regarding 
eternity,  were  devoting  themselves  to  the  enjoyment  of 
time. 

There  were  many  stands  along  the  streets  where  fruit, 
candies,  and  sour  milk  were  sold,  but  passing  these,  Mrs. 
Brake  and  I  entered  a  restaurant  and  enjoyed  some  excel- 
lent tea  arid  cake.  The  delightful  feeling  of  treading  the 
solid  land  after  a  long  sea  voyage,  none  can  know  except, 
those  who  have  passed  through  the  experience.  When  we 
went  to  the  landing-place  to  secure  our  baggage,  the  scenes 
in  sight  would  have  aroused  sympathy  in  the  hardest  heart. 
The  infected  ships  swung  idly  at  their  moorings,  waiting 
to  be  cleansed  and  disinfected.  Many  of  them  had  lost 
nearly  all  of  their  emigrant  passengers  by  ship  fever,  arid 
the  survivors  were  scarcely  alive.  As  we  stood  listening 
to  the  sufferers  mourning  for  their  dead  friends,  one  ship- 
master said  to  me,  as  tears  fell  fast  on  his  sunburnt  face, 
UI  have  lost  every  Irish  passenger."  Although  many 
years  have  rolled  away,  I  have  never  forgotten  the  dirt, 
misery  and  sorrow  connected  with  the  fever  scenes  of 
1847. 

After  a  short  time  spent  in  looking  at  the  old  city  of 

(41) 


42  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

Quebec,  where  we  were  especially  interested  by  the  awful 
guns  of  the  battery,  we  ascertained  that  a  boat,  "  Ireland  " 
by  name,  was  about  to  start  for  Hamilton  City,  on  Bur- 
lington Bay,  Upper  Canada.  We  at  once  boarded  a  barge 
and  were  taken  on  the  river  to  the  place  where  the  "  Ire- 
land "  was  moored,  and  a  few  minutes  later  were  on  our 
way  up  the  River  St.  Lawrence. 

Americans  are  familiar  with  the  picturesque  scenery  of 
this  noble  stream,  with  the  rivers  which  empty  their  swirl- 
ing waters  into  its  current ;  the  Falls  of  Montmorency, 
where,  eight  miles  from  Quebec,  one  of  these  streams  ter- 
minates, and  the  water,  fifty  feet  wide,  falls  two  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  in  a  beautiful  cataract ;  and  of  the  old-time 
perils  of  the  Lachine  rapids  ;  but  to  us  these  sights  were 
new,  and  the  inevitable  spice  of  danger  increased  our  in- 
terest. We  stopped  long  enough  in  Montreal  to  visit  the 
great  cathedral,  then  one  of  the  largest  of  its  kind,  and  to 
note  the  thousands  of  barrels  of  flour  on  the  wharves 
ready  for  shipment  to  London.  Then  we  again  committed 
ourselves  to  the  mercy  of  the  "Ireland." 

At  the  foot  of  the  Lachine  rapids  we  found  a  very 
dangerous  passage-way,  as  the  canal  around  them  was  not 
yet  completed.  After  a  short  interval  of  waiting,  twenty 
fine  span  of  horses  were  brought  on  the  tow-path.  When 
their  traces  were  connected  with  our  boat,  there  began  the 
tug  of  war.  Men  hallooed,  cursed,  and  whipped  the  horses. 
The  boat  seemed  to  us  doomed.  Unable  to  proceed,  it 
was  lost  if  it  fell  back.  Tar  barrels,  every  conceivable 
form  of  fuel  used  to  increase  the  power  and  aid  the  strug- 
gling horses,  seemed  of  no  avail.  Every  face  on  board 
grew  pallid  with  fear.  To  add  to  our  terror  we  saw  a 
small  boat,  containing  two  men,  shoot  with  the  rapidity  of 


CANADIAN  EXPEDIENCES.  43 

the  current  through  the  awful  waters  ;  who  they  were  or 
what  their  fate  we  never  knew.  But  at  last  the  united  ef- 
forts of  captain,  crew  and  canal-men  were  successful,  and 
the  rapids  were  passed.  The  beautiful  Thousand  Isles  were 
soon  left  behind,  and  we  launched  our  vessel  on  Lake  On- 
tario. 

The  remainder  of  the  journey  was  soon  made.  We 
passed  Kingston  as  we  entered  the  lake,  then  Prescott, 
Brockvale,  and  Old  York,  now  the  city  of  Toronto.  From 
there  we  steered  for  the  place  of  our  destination  — Hamil- 
ton, Ontario.  During  the  entire  journey,  the  beautiful 
shores  with  their  nestling  cities,  the  sparkling  waters,  and 
the  cheer  of  passing  boats,  kept  us  in  a  state  of  constant 
delight. 

Although  in  its  extreme  youth,  Hamilton  in  1847  was 
making  a  vigorous  growth.  Its  inhabitants  were  enter- 
prising people  who  had  come  to  the  New  World  to  secure 
homes,  and  were  fast  building  up  a  flourishing  city.  The 
Canadian  pioneers  were  of  every  nationality,  but  were 
chiefly  English,  Dutch,  Scotch,  and  Welsh.  Hamilton  was 
the  home  of  Sir  Allan  MacNab,  chief  of  the  MacNab  clan. 
His  home  was  a  beautiful  castle,  built  after  the  fashion  of 
those  in  Scotland. 

Thus  I  became  one  of  the  early  settlers  of  Upper  Can- 
ada, and  was  actively  interested  in  the  development  of  the 
country.  My  wife  kept  boarders,  and  I  secured  a  position 
as  canvasser  for  headstones  with  I.  Gardiner,  a  manufac- 
turer of  marble  works  in  High  street,  Hamilton.  Mr. 
Gardiner  was  an  Englishman,  and  a  very  good  designer  in 
marble.  He  gave  me  twenty  per  cent,  on  all  sales,  and  in 
canvassing  the  country-  for  a  distance  of  fifteen  miles  in 
every  direction  from  home,  I  found  him  plenty  of  work. 


44  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

The  people  of  this  region  were  social,  hospitable,  enter- 
taining, and  extremely  loyal  to  Queen  Victoria.  They 
would  keep  me  and  my  horse  any  length  of  time  free  of 
charge  because  I  was  an  Englishman.  My  last  work  for 
the  marble  company  was  to  put  up  a  large  monument  for 
Major  Shower's  wife,  in  the  Dundas  churchyard.  About 
the  time  my  work  began  to  be  remunerative,  my  employer, 
who  had  fallen  into  debt,  to  escape  imprisonment  ran  off 
to  Buffalo.  My  occupation  was  now  gone,  and  I  turned 
my  attention  to  helping  my  wife  in  the  boarding  business. 

In  1848,  the  cholera  in  a  very  serious  form  visited 
Hamilton.  During  the  time  of  the  scourge,  I  remember 
meeting  on  the  street  two  acquaintances,  named  Hull  and 
Plowright.  The  latter  complained  of  symptoms  of  the 
plague,  and  requested  some  burnt  brandy.  We  went  into 
the  nearest  saloon  and  procured  the  brandy,  and  then 
went  home.  A  few  hours  later  Mr.  Hull  came  to  my 
house  and  stated  that  poor  Plowright  was  dead.  There 
was  no  use  now  to  avoid  exposure  ;  trusting  to  Providence 
to  protect  us,  we  went  to  make  Plowright,  who  was  a  bach- 
elor, ready  for  burial.  In  the  morning  we  buried  him 
without  ceremony,  and  by  the  time  I  reached  home  I  too 
was  sick  with  the  dreaded  disease.  I  managed,  however, 
»  to  a  doctor's,  get  some  medicine  and  take  it  before 
I  went  to  bed.  My  cure  was  amusing.  My  wife  had  hired 
my  horse  to  a  man  to  use  for  me,  and  shortly  after  I  was 
taken  with  the  cholera  the  animal  came  home  without  my 
cart.  I  went  out  and  caught  him,  and  the  fright  caused 
by  the  appearance  of  the  runaway  horse  cured  inc.  Per- 
haps I  was  frightened  into  the  cholera  —  I  certainly  was 
scared  our  of  it. 

The  Irish  potato  failure  in    Ireland,  causing  the  terrible 


CANADIAX  EXPERIENCES.  45 

famine  of  1847,  landed  many  Irish  people  in  Canada; 
during  the  time  from  1847  to  1849,  Dutch  immigration 
being  also  rapid,  about  three  hundred  thousand  settlers 
came  into  Canada.  Many  of  these  pushed  westward  into 
Upper  Canada,  and  from  there  emigrated  to  the  United 
States.  There  were  about  a  thousand  souls  in  Hamilton 
in  1848-9.  Now  it  is  a  city  of  ten  thousand  people. 

.Mr  brother  in  London  forwarded  me  a  letter  written  by 
my  mother  during  the  year  1848,  in  which,  after  express- 
ing surprise  at  my  going  to  Canada,  she  said : 

"  If  he  is  going  to  get  land  there,  it  may  be  like  that  his 
father  bought  at  Milborne  Port,  in  Somersetshire.  That 
forty  acres  on  which  he  built  a  house  and  spent  so  much 
labor  and  money,  Sir  William  Medlicott  has  got  and 
planted  trees  on  it,  and  his  father's  family  none  the  better 
for  it.  I  think  he  would  better  have  stayed  at  home.  I 
say,  I  would  n't  go  thousands  of  miles  on  a  wild-goose 
chase  to  America." 

From  this  letter  I  gathered  that  my  mother  wished  me 
to  come  home.  I  resolved  to  sell  out,  and  as  she  desired, 
return  to  England  by  way  of  the  United 'States,  ascertain- 
ing if  possible  in  Albany  the  whereabouts  of  my  long-lost 
father.  It  had  been  to  seek  him  that  I  had  first  decided 
to  visit  the  United  States,  and  since  I  was  to  abandon  my 
project  of  securing  a  home  in  that  country,  I  at  least  could 
not  return  without  taking  my  mother  some  information  of 
the  husband  lost  to  her  since  1832.  So  we  packed  such 
goods  as  we  wished  to  take  with  us,  called  an  auctioneer 
and  sold  the  rest,  and  left  the  city  of  Hamilton. 

We  traveled  by  boat  from  Burlington  Bay  to  Rochester, 
New  York,  and  from  there  we  were  to  go  to  Albany  by 
way  of  the  Erie  canal,  in  order  to  see  as  much  of  the 


46  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

country  as  possible.  We  had  a  rough  time  crossing  Lake 
Ontario,  and  every  person  on  the  steamboat  was  sick. 
But  after  a  whole  night's  travel,  we  reached  the  opposite 
shore  in  safety,  and  on  a  Tuesday  morning  in  May,  1848, 
we  landed  on  United  States  soil. 


CHAPTER   III. 

EASTERN   OBSERVATIONS. 

I  had  often  dreamed  of  this  free  country,  of  which  Eng- 
lishmen sometimes  remarked  ironically  that  it  was  a  land 
where  there  was  no  imprisonment  for  debt,  but  where 
every  rascal  found  a  loophole  of  escape  from  honest  pay- 
ment ;  but  my  heart  swelled  at  the  thought  of  standing 
upon  ground  sacred  to  liberty.  Forty-eight  years  have 
come  and  gone  since  that  May  morning,  and  in  all  that 
time,  America,  sacred,  as  Marryatt  says,  to  the  eternal  prin- 
ciples of  right,  has  been  my  constant  home,  but  her  skies 
have  never  looked  fairer,  her  breezes  seemed  balmier,  than 
on  that  glad  day  when  she  first  became  my  "  ain  countree." 

As  we  had  a  day  to  spend  in  Rochester,  our  first  ex- 
perience was  in  changing  our  Canadian  coin,  of  which  we 
had  quite  a  little  sum,  into  United  States  silver.  In  order 
to  facilitate  matters  in  carrying  it,  we  divided  the  money 
into  two  parts  ;  my  wife  made  a  short,  stout  sack  to  hold 
her  share  of  the  silver,  and  I  put  the  rest  in  my  pockets. 
As  purposed,  we  went  by  a  canal-boat,  and  our  fare  for 
that  long  distance  was  only  five  dollars.  There  was  only 
one  passenger,  the  captain's  wife,  besides  ourselves,  and 
the  crew  consisted  of  the  captain  and  one  boy.  Once 
safely  embarked  upon  our  tow-path  excursion  to  the  city 
of  Albany,  we  were  anxious  to  see  the  sights  along  our 
route,  particularly  the  working  of  the  locks.  The  heavy 
masonry  which  enabled  the  gatekeepers  to  raise  the  water 
in  the  locks  at  pleasure,  the  weirs,  the  lifting  of  boats  to 
the  plane  desired,  were  new  and  interesting  to  us.  The 

(47) 


4:8  .  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

tow-path  along  the  edge  of  the  canal,  the  inevitable  mule 
with  the  rope  attachment  to  our  boat,  and  the  boy  accom- 
paniment riding  leisurely  along  as  the  boat  was  towed 
onward,  grew  very  monotonous,  as  did  our  three-miles-an- 
hour  progress,  but  we  enjoyed  it  all  hugely,  glad  of  an  op- 
portunity to  see  the  new  country.  As  I  look  back  and 
think  of  the  boy  and  the  mule,  I  am  reminded  that,  in  his 
early  youth,  President  Garfield  followed  the  canal  tow- 
path  as  a  mule-driver,  and  may  havo  presented  a  similar 
appearance  to  the  boy  who  accompanied  our  excursion. 

Our  extremely  comfortable  voyage  had  the  monotony 
broken  one  morning  by  my  wife  exclaiming  that  her  sack 
of  money  was  gone.  She  had  put  it  under  the  cushion 
upon  which  she  slept,  not  noticing  that  slats  formed  the 
flooring.  Upon  raising  the  cushion  she  saw  only  the 
water  ;  as  luck  would  have  it,  however,  the  sack,  which  was 
tied  in  the  middle,  had  caught  on  one  of  the  slats,  and  al- 
though submerged,  the  money  was  safe.  Poor  Mrs.  Brake 
was  so  nervous  over  the  matter  that  during  our  journey 
she  hardly  recovered  from  the  shock. 

Through  the  courtesy  of  the  captain  and  his  lady,  we 
were  always  given  time  to  view  the  places  through  which 
we  passed.  As  the  canal  skirted  the  cities  of  Lyons,  Syr- 
acuse, Utica,  Herkimer,  Schenectady,  and  Troy,  before  we 
reached  Albany  we  saw  many  interesting  glimpses  of  these 
towns.  Of  all  our  varied  experiences  since  leaving  Eng- 
land, this  long  journey  on  a  canal-boat  was  the  most  enjoy- 
able. 

However,  the  disagreeable  will  interfere,  and  the  close 
of  our  journey  proved  this  fact  to  be  true.  Having 
arrived  at  the  last  lock  but  one  from  the  freight  basin,  I 
thought  I  would  leave  my  wife  on  board  and  go  on  shore 
for  an  hour  or  so  to  hunt  up  a  Hamilton  acquaintance, 


EAHTEUX  OBSERVATIONS.  49 

whom  I  knew  to  be  living  near.  During  my  absence,  a 
heavy  rain  and  wind  storm  came  up,  and  when  I  returned 
our  captain  had  gone  through  the  locks  and  was  near  the 
place  of  landing  his  freight.  Happening  to  know  his 
sou'western  broad  hat,  I  found  him,  and  learned  where  to 
find  my  wife  and  baggage.  We  could  go  no  further  that 
dark  night,  and  were  compelled  to  remain  on  board  our 
canal-boat. 

My  father  had  been  absent  sixteen  years ;  the  anxiety 
of  my  dear  mother,  and  her  confidence  in  my  ability  to 
find  her  lost  husband,  made  me  anxious  to  begin  the  search 
for  him.  Once  safely  landed  in  Albany,  my  wife  and  I 
realized  that  it  might  take  some  time  to  accomplish  the 
task,  and  in  order  to  be  able  financially  to  succeed,  I  got 
a  situation  as  waiter  and  my  wife  as  pastry  cook  at  the 
American  Hotel  in  Albany. 

I  now  began  making  inquiries  for  my  father.  The  last 
letter  my  mother  had  received  was  written  from  a  board- 
ing-house, 23  Steuben  street.  In  this  letter  he  had  said 
irreverently  that  he  was  going  to  send  for  all  of  his  family 
in  about  six  months,  and  they  would  all  drink  a  bottle  of 
wine  together  and  sing  a  song  of  Zion  in  a  strange  land. 
No  one  seemed  to  have  known  him.  One  gentleman  had 
seen  a  man  answering  my  father's  description  at  church 
once,  but  never  afterwards.  I  examined  the  city  records, 
and  sought  in  every  way  to  find  a  clue  to  his  whereabouts. 
At  last  I  gained  the  required  information,  and  transmitted 
it  to  my  mother  in  England.  He  had  been  last  seen  alive 
one  morning  in  Steuben  street,  and  in  the  evening  found 
dead  with  the  cholera  upon  the  wharf  ;  with  many  others 
who  died  of  the  plague,  he  was  buried  in  a  common  grave. 
Thus,  without  even  receiving  the  melancholy  satisfaction 
of  standing  by  his  burial-place,  ended  the  arduous  under- 


50  OX   TWO    CONTINENTS. 

taking  of  finding  my  father.  The  uncertainty  of  human 
life  had  never  seemed  so  real  to  me  as  when  I  learned  the 
certainty  of  his  fate. 

At  this  time  the  grand  River  Hudson  literally  teemed 
with  life.  On  its  broad  bosom,  floating  palaces,  unparal- 
leled for  grandeur  and  magnificence,  and  loaded  with  pas- 
sengers to  and  from  the  Empire  City,  daily  floated.  Cities 
and  towns  had  sprung  up  and  were  flourishing  on  its  banks. 
A  trip  down  this  noble  stream  was  like  a  journey  through 
Elysium.  My  errand  in  Albany  completed,  I  resolved  to 
embark  upon  the  Hudson  and  visit  the  great  city  of  New 
York.  Our  baggage  arranged  and  passage  paid,  we  em- 
barked on  the  u  Palace,"  a  boat  whose  elegance  reminded 
me  forcibly  of  the  spacious  drawing-rooms  of  London. 

Once  in  New  York,  our  attention  was  engrossed  with 
the  all-important  subject,  '-Should  we  go  back  to  England, 
or  remain  in  America  '.  "  To  me,  aside  from  my  mother's 
wishes,  it  seemed  folly  to  return  to  England  without  hav- 
ing gained  either  knowledge  or  experience  of  a  land  which 
thousands  boasted  to  be  the  best  country  on  earth  for  a 
poor  man.  At  this  time  hundreds  of  thousands  of  Euro- 
peans were  annually  coming  into  this  country,  and  I  be- 
lieved that  among  them  all  there  was  a  place  for  us.  Our 
consultation  ended  in  a  mutual  decision  to  remain  ;  for  me 
to  visit  the  South,  learn  the  character  of  the  people,  and 
the  prospects  there  of  earning  an  honest  living  for  our 
family.  Securing  a  suitable  residence  for  my  wife  during 
my  absence,  I  procured  a  ticket  for  a  boat  passage  to  Phil- 
adelphia, and  started  by  way  of  that  city  to  Richmond. 
After  a  two-days  visit  to  1'enn's  (.Id  town,  where  her  old 
governmental  buildings  and  splendid  system  of  waterworks 
were  duly  admired,  I  left  the  Middle  States  for  the  South. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

SOUTHERN   GLIMPSES. 

On  the  way  to  Richmond,  I  stopped  in  the  old  city  of 
Baltimore.  It  proved  a  very  delightful  place  to  visit,  and 
the  Barnum  Hotel  a  scene  of  homely  good  cheer.  The  at- 
tention of  the  waiters,  the  kindness  of  the  guests  and  the 
courtesy  of  the  host  quite  enamored  me  with  the  Southern 
people.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  settle  in  the  South.  Be- 
fore leaving  the  city  I  visited  its  noted  places.  Of  most 
interest  to  me  were  the  two  monuments  of  the  Battle  of 
1814,  and  Washington.  The  first  is  fifty-two  feet  high,  of 
Egyptian  architecture,  and  is  surmounted  by  a  female  fig- 
ure—  the  genius  of  the  city.  It  was  built  in  honor  of  the 
defenders  of  the  city  in  1814.  The  other  monument  stands 
on  an  eminence,  is  two  hundred  feet  high,  and  surmounted 
by  a  statue  of  General  Washington.  The  whole  design  is 
of  pure  white  marble. 

Richmond  at  this  time  was  the  home  of  many  rich,  re- 
tired planters,  and  was  a  quaint  old  city.  I  reached  it  in 
time  for  the  celebration  of  General  Zachary  Taylor's  birth- 
day, a  short  time  previous  to  his  inauguration  as  President 
of  the  United  States.  The  citizens  of  Richmond  gave  a 
grand  dinner  to  General  Taylor  at  the  National  Hotel.  As 
I  was  stopping  there,  I  was  one  of  the  invited  guests,  and 
it  was  my  pleasure  not  only  to  shake  hands  with  the  hero 
but  to  dine  with  him.  During  the  after-dinner  speeches,  I 
formed  exalted  opinions  of  the  United  States.  The  fact 
that  the  curse  of  slavery  rested  like  a  blight  upon  this  fair 

(51) 


52  "-V   TWO   CONTINENTS. 

country  was  forgotten  both  by  myself  and  the  speakers. 
I  resolved  to  remain  in  America,  and  no  more  reside  in 
my  native  land.  When  the  toasts  were  made  and  elo- 
quently answered  —  a  little  worse,  I  must  confess,  for  the 
champagne  which  flowed  freely  during  the  entertainment 

—  I  retired,  greatly  pleased,  not  only  with  the  Southern 
people  in  particular,  but  with  the  United  States  in  general. 

On  my  stroll  through  the  city  the  next  day,  my  attention 
was  attracted  to  the  immense  warehouses,  and  from  these 
to  the  unfortunate  slaves  whose  labor  tilled  these  buildings 
with  the  great  Virginian  staple  —  tobacco.  Out  of  curios- 
ity, I  entered  one  of  the  slave  marts  on  the  main  street, 
where  an  auctioneer  was  selling  some  slaves.  A  black 
woman  was  being  sold  away  from  her  despairing  husband 
and  sobbing  children;  another  slave — a  tall,  stout  negro 

—  was  undergoing  examination  at  the  hands  of  the  slave- 
buyer.     The  latter  seemed  in  doubt  about  his  soundness. 
As  he  punched   the  fellow  in   the  stomach,  and  held  his 
mouth  open  to  examine  his  teeth,  I  ventured  to  ask  what 
was  his  object  in  so  doing.      lie  replied  : 

"  You  ought  to  know  that  in  a  nigger  every  tooth  is 
worth  a  hundred  dollars." 

The  slave  was  bid  off  at  two  thousand  dollars  —  a  good 
price,  I  thought,  for  a  man.  I  am  sure  if  the  author  of 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  had  seen  the  separation  of  the 
helpless  mother  and  children,  she  would  have  thought 
"truth  stranger  than  fiction."  Satisfied  with  this  glimpse 
at  the  pet  institution  of  the  South,  I  returned  to  Baltimore. 
I  took  a  irreat  fancy  to  the  town,  and  again  stayed  at  l>ar- 
nnin's  several  days.  While  there,  I  met  a  planter  who 
had  just  sold  out  his  stock  of  slaves,  and  was  looking  for 
something  in  which  to  invest  his  money.  He  and  I  to- 


SOUTJIKUX  ^/,/.W>7->,  53 

gether  leased  the  European  Hotel,  and  went  into  business. 
On  my  way  to  Baltimore  from  Richmond,  I  stopped  in  the 
capital  of  the  United  States.  During  my  three-days  stay 
in  Washington,  I  visited  the  capitol  building.  Nothing 
in  its  halls  interested  me  so  much  as  the  portraits  of  Wash- 
ington and  Lafayette,  in  whose  heroic  characters  I  had  al- 
ways been  greatly  interested.  At  the  White  House  I  was 
shown  all  of  the  rooms  and  offices,  and  the  contrast  be- 
tween English  and  American  customs  struck  me  very 
forcibly.  I  had  once  sought  to  view  the  interior  of  Bucking- 
ham Palace,  but  had  been  coldly  refused  admittance.  It 
is  needless  to  say  that  this  courtesy  increased  my  admira- 
tion for  my  adopted  country.  I  ran  down  also  to  Mount 
Vernon,  and  visited  the  old  farm-house  and  Washington's 
grave.  In  the  house,  in  a  glass  frame,  I  saw  the  famous 
key  to  the  Bastile.  Washington's  monument  was  then  in 
course  of  construction.  President  Polk  laid  the  corner- 
stone in  1848,  but  it  was  not  finished  for  years. 

As  soon  as  we  had  completed  our  plans  by  paying  an 
advance  of  fifty  dollars,  and  agreeing  to  pay  forty  dollars 
per  month  for  the  hotel,  we  purchased  the  necessary  im- 
provements in  the  way  of  furniture,  etc.,  and  I  sent  to 
New  York  for  my  wife.  At  the  same  time  I  procured 
two  bales  of  New  Orleans  moss,  which  made  twenty  mat- 
tresses, and  these  were  placed  in  the  bedrooms.  We  hired 
a  black  cook  and  a  couple  of  mulatto  maids  to  assist  with 
the  work,  and  in  accordance  with  Southern  custom  we  fur- 
nished, in  addition  to  the  ordinary  accommodations,  the 
doubtful  one  of  a  bar  for  liquors.  As  we  had  plenty  of 
spare  rooms  for  traveling-men,  to  show  samples  of  their 
wares,  and  in  every  particular  kept  a  first-class  house,  we 
soon  had  all  of  the  patronage  we  wished.  My  partner, 


54  '^V  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

however,  proved  to  be  our  best  customer  in  the  bar-room ; 
so,  leaving  other  business  to  him,  I  released  him  from 
that  work,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  kept  bar.  The 
science  of  Temperance  had  made  little  progress  with  the 
general  public  in  the  year  1849.  A  hotel  without  a  bar 
was  not  a  matter  of  consideration. 

As  to  servants,  we  hired  slaves  from  masters,  who  col- 
lected their  pay  as  they  would  for  horse-hire.  Female  la- 
bor was  very  cheap,  ranging  from  four  to  eight  dollars  per 
month.  The  morals  of  these  slaves  were  of  a  low  order, 
and  they  had  to  be  closely  watched  to  prevent  them  from 
stealing  and  selling  knives,  forks,  plates,  and  other  house- 
hold articles.  One  night  my  wife  took  me  into  the  cook's 
bedroom  to  see  her.  The  woman  lay  on  the  floor  in  a 
state  of  maudlin  drunkenness,  and  rats  scudded  away  from 
her  as  we  entered.  By  her  side  was  an  old  teapot  nearly 
full  of  ale,  which  she  had  stolen  and  carried  up  from  the 
cellar  in  an  old  teakettle,  and  which  she  stoutly  swore,  when 
questioned,  was  nothing  but  water.  Such  was  the  character 
of  much  of  the  slave  labor  of  that  time.  I  little  dreamed 
then  that  I  should  live  to  see  the  time  when  these  neglected 
and  often  maltreated  slaves  would  be  emancipated,  and 
liquor-selling,  at  least  in  my  own  State,  prohibited. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  evils  of  drunkenness  pre- 
sented themselves  so  forcibly  to  me  that,  despite  the  fact 
that  in  England  I  had  always  been  accustomed  to  bars  in 
public  houses,  I  began  to  regret  my  entrance  into  hotel- 
keeping.  Business  always  ran  far  into  the  night  ;  my 
partner  continued  to  drink  heavily,  and  opposition  com- 
panies of  drunken  firemen  made  the  night  hideous  with 
false  alarms  and  lighting.  After  four  months  of  this  vex- 
atious experience,  I  settled  my  affairs,  and  moved  with  my 
wife  (for  we  had  no  children)  to  Bergen,  New  Jersey. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

NORTHERN   OCCURRENCES. 

My  experience  in  the  South  had  satisfied  me  that  we 
could  not  be  happy  there,  and  I  decided  to  look  for  some- 
thing to  do  thereafter  in  the  North.  I  soon  met  an  Eng- 
lishman, who  told  me  there  was  money  to  be  made  in  the 
wool  business.  Accordingly  I  bought  a  horse  and  sent 
my  new  acquaintance  to  buy  all  the  freshly-skinned  sheep- 
skins he  could  secure. 

The  method  of  treatment  for  the  skins  was  as  follows : 
As  soon  as  they  were  brought  in,  the  first  one  was  laid 
with  the  wool  downward  and  every  part  spread  out.  A 
mixture  of  lime,  thick  as  whitewash,  was  then  carefully 
spread  on  every  part  of  it ;  a  second  and  other  successive 
skins  were  added,  until  a  huge  pile  of  them  was  heaped 
up.  They  were  then  removed,  and  the  wool  scraped  off 
with  a  blunt-edged  instrument  like  a  drawing-knife.  When 
the  wool  was  washed,  dried,  and  assorted,  both  wool  and 
hides  were  ready  for  the  New  York  market,  where  they 
always  brought  remunerative  prices. 

This  business  was  carried  on  into  the  year  1850,  when 
I  discovered  that  my  partner  was  not  trustworthy.  An 
examination  into  his  sales  showed  that  he  had  reserved 
from  me  ten  dollars  each  week  from  his  report,  and  thi.s 
money  I  found  had  been  forwarded  to  his  family  in  Eng- 
land. So  I  quit  the  business,  the  unhealthy  and  offensive 
nature  of  which  had  thrown  me  into  a  malarial  fever. 

For  two  months  I  lived  on  my  means ;   then  Providence 

(55) 


56  ^V   TWO 

again  hunted  me  up.  By  searching  the  "want"  columns 
of  the  New  York  papers  I  saw  an  advertisement  for  a  man 
and  his  wife,  the  former  to  attend  upon  a  rich,  paralytical 
gentleman,  and  the  latter  to  act  as  his  housekeeper.  We 
found  the  agent  for  the  gentleman  at  the  College  Hotel, 
and  he  sent  us  to  his  employer's  residence  in  Fifth  avenue. 
We  furnished  the  invalid  with  a  recommendation  from 
his  physician,  Dr.  Valentine  Mott,  who  had  heard  of  us 
through  Dr.  Scott,  of  London,  and  also  the  following 
quaint  testimonial  as  to  our  worth  : 

"Hezekiah  and  Charlotte 

Brake  are  Both 
Worthy  of  Confidence. 

SIR  JOHN  H.  BECKLES." 

These  proved  satisfactory,  and  we  were  employed.  We 
now  settled  our  bills,  and  left  Bergen,  then  a  Dutch  settle- 
ment containing  a  few  small  houses,  and  crossed  by  ferry 
from  Jersey  City  to  New  York. 

In  our  new  home  we  found  everything  on  a  grand  scale. 
In  the  richly-appointed  house  there  were  four  servants  un- 
der my  wife's  orders,  while  I  served  as  nurse  and  attend- 
ant upon  the  sick  man.  The  latter  had  two  sons,  seldom 
at  home,  and  there  was  a  lady  connected  with  the  family 
who  owned  two  hundred  and  fifty  slaves  in  South  Caro- 
lina, and  who  spent  the  greater  part  of  her  time  upon  her 
plantation.  Our  situation  had  many  difficulties,  responsi- 
bilities and  duties;  especially  was  my  own  work  tedious. 
I  had  unceasingly  to  rub  the  limbs  of  my  helpless  charge 
with  a  particular  kind  of  ointment,  and  to  give  him  only 
certain  kinds  of  food  and  drinks.  \\\\\  my  wife  as  house- 
keeper was  in  her  element.  We  received  good  salaries, 
and  were  well  contented. 


NORTHERN  OCCURRENCES.  57 

By  the  end  of  two  years,  Mr.  B.,  who  was  very  patient, 
had  recovered  his  health,  and  having  by  economy  and 
self-denial,  accumulated  some  money,  I  invested  part  of  it 
in  land  at  Hicksville  and  lots  at  Yonkers,  on  Oyster  Bay, 
near  Flushing. 

My  health  now  began  to  suffer  from  the  close  confine- 
ment I  was  undergoing.  I  had  no  opportunity  to  study 
the  political  conditions  of  my  adopted  country,  and  I  be- 
gan to  meditate  surrendering  my  situation  and  going  into 
the  country.  The  need  of  freedom  from  confinement  and 
of  country  life  for  my  health,  made  me  long  to  secure 
land  and  go  to  farming.  My  wife,  although  reluctant  to 
leave  her  comfortable  situation,  as  usual  acquiesced  in  my 
wishes,  and  it  was  so  decided. 

About  this  time  there  was  a  colony  forming  for  the  pur- 
pose of  settling  the  Territory  of  Minnesota.  I  became  in- 
terested in  the  meetings  held  for  this  purpose,  and  the 
speeches  there  made,  so  flattering  to  the  new  country,  in- 
duced me  to  join  the  enterprise.  A  gentleman  named 
George  Bertram  was  made  president  and  myself  treasurer 
of  the  company ;  a  committee  was  appointed  and  sent  to 
Minnesota  Territory  to  select  a  town-site  and  adjoining 
land  for  our  farms.  Thus,  with  about  twenty  other  per- 
sons, I  became  a  pioneer  of  a  Northern  State. 

My  mother  in  England,  having  heard  of  our  wild  proj- 
ect, sent  me  the  following  acrimonious  epistle : 

"March  1st,  1852;  WALPORD  GATE, 
NEAR  SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  ENGLAND. 

"Dear  Son  and  Daughter:  I  did  receive  your  kind  letter,  after  much 
anxiety.  Was  glad  to  find  you  and  your  wife  in  good  health,  and  instead 
of  going  off  into  that  terrible  far-off  Territory,  not  explored  or  inhabited, 
where  nothing  but  trappers  and  Indians  live,  as  I  see  by  the  map  of  the 
world.  It  will  in  the  first  place  cost  you,  I  fear,  all  your  savings  gath- 
ered together,  money  made  at  Baltimore  and  New  Jersey,  and  what  you 


58  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

have  made  in  New  York,  and  then  be  murdered  in  the  wilds  of  Min 
sota  by  savages,  or  drowned  in  Lake  Minnetouka,  or  have  your  precious 
blood  sucked  out  of  you  by  mosquitoes  —  for  a  woman  here  told  me  they 
had  trunks  like  elephants,  and  would  do  it.  You  must  be  crazy.  You 
say  you  can  get  plenty  of  land  there.  Yes,  no  doubt  you  can ;  but  you 
ought  to  recollect  your  father  got  40  acres  of  land  at  Milborne  Port. 
What  good  was  it?  You  and  he  worked  hard  to  make  it  of  some  use, 
and  your  father  built  a  house  on  it,  and  now  Sir  William  Medlicott  has 
it  all  planted  in  fruit  trees,  and  no  one  now  belonging  to  him  is  any  the 
better  for  it.  My  sou,  don't  go  there !  If  I  can  in  England,  with  a 
family  of  nine  children,  save,  and  raise  and  support  seven  of  them  here, 
you  can  come  back  here  and  make  your  living.  Your  poor  father  left 
me  in  1832;  got  to  Albany;  got  overtaken  with  cholera,  and  died;  and 
1  now  again  thank  you  for  the  good  you  have  done  in  finding  out  what 
had  become  of  him  in  America.  Of  course,  you  are  in  pursuit  of  happi- 
ness—  perfect  happiness.  But  it  is  not  to  be  found  on  earth. 
"Write  me  again  soon.  My  love  to  you  both. 

"  Your  affectionate  mother,  SARAH  BRAKE." 


My  mother's  letter  greatly  affected  me,  but  it  came  too 
late  to  change  my  purpose.  My  plans  were  made ;  I  had 
notified  my  employer  of  my  determination,  and  notwith- 
standing his  urgent  entreaties  for  our  continued  service 
with  him,  and  his  generous  offers  to  induce  us  to  stay,  I 
had  agreed  to  start  in  a  short  time  for  our  proposed  tow 
site  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Minnetonka,  in  Minnesota  Te 
tory.  When  our  luggage  was  packed  and  the  dray  ca 
to  remove  it,  my  employer  and  I  parted  with  mutual  te 
of  regret. 

We  went  by  boat  to  Buffalo,  where  I  hired  a  man  a 
his  wife  to  accompany  us  from   there  over  Lake  Erie,  an 
around  to  Detroit;   thence  across   Michigan  by  railroad  to 
Chicago,  Illinois.     We  stopped  there  for  three  days,  and 
put  up  at  the  Lake  Shore  Hotel,  then  a  very  insignificant 
affair.      We  found   Chicago  a  small   town    in   a   mud-ho 
I  was  offered  lots  for  two  and  three  hundred  dollars  t 
since  have  sold  for  two  or  three  hundred  thousand  doll 


NORTHERN  OCCURRENCES.  59 

I  went  to  Lake  Michigan  and  found  that  my  baggage,  a 
burden  of  some  fifteen  hundred  pounds,  had  reached  there 
in  safety.  Where  it  was  afterwards  delayed  I  know  not, 
but  I  had  been  in  Minnesota  three  months  before  I  re- 
ceived it.  The  cost  of  its  transportation  from  New  York 
to  St.  Paul  was  forty  dollars. 

A  railroad  had  been  started  from  Chicago  to  Galena, 
and  was  completed  as  far  as  Rockford,  Illinois,  a  distance 
of  some  fifty  miles.  Rockford,  although  a  town  since 
1832,  was  small,  and  gave  no  promise  then  of  becoming 
later  a  prominent  city  through  its  watch  industry.  Upon 
arriving  at  this  terminus  of  the  railroad,  we  were  seriously 
troubled  as  to  how  to  proceed.  At  length,  after  much 
anxious  perseverance,  we  succeeded  in  hiring  wagons 
enough  to  carry  Mr.  Bertram,  his  wife  and  three  children, 
myself  and  wife,  hired  man  and  wife,  all  of  our  luggage, 
and  Mr.  Bertram's  dog. 

To  face  the  uninhabited  waste  before  us  required  cour- 
age and  determination,  but,  nothing  daunted,  early  in  the 
morning  of  May  10,  1852,  we  started,  and  moved  forward 
until  nightfall.  The  women  would  not  go  to  bed  :  dis- 
gusted with  the  dirt  and  tobacco  on  the  walls  of  our  stop- 
ping-place, they  sat  up  all  night.  But  the  men  were  tired  ; 
they  ate  their  own  cooking,  admired  each  other,  and  re- 
tired to  rest.  They  were  pioneers.  There  was  consola- 
tion in  the  thought. 

There  were  no  good  roads  then  across  these  wilds,  and 
there  were  many  washed-out  places  in  the  way  which 
caused  us  in  passing  over  them  to  unload,  walk  across, 
and  reload.  After  six  weary  days  we  reached  Fever  river, 
and  there  hired  a  barge  to  take  us  to  Galena  on  the  Mis- 
sissippi. 


60 


ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


The  boat  by  which  we  expected  to  journey  from  Galeiu 
to  Fort  Snelling,  Minnesota,  delayed  us  two  days  by  its 
non-appearance.  This  gave  us  an  opportunity  to  see  tin 
sights  of  this  city,  built  half  upon  and  half  under  the  ovei 
hanging  bluffs  of  the  "Father  of  Waters,"  as  well  as  th< 
lead  mines  of  the  vicinity.  Few  then  had  ever  heard 
the  man  who  would  render  Galena  historical  from  the  f{ 
that  it  was  here  he  once  lived ;  he  who  afterwards 
the  hero  of  Appomattox  —  General  Grant.  Even  in  1860, 
"Captain"  Grant  was  yet  a  teamster  in  Galena. 

We  employed  part  of  our  time  in  purchasing  the  neces 
sary   provisions  to   take   with   us  to  our  far-away  horn* 
Two  barrels  of  pork,  one  of  corn  meal,  one  of  sugar,  hall 
a  dozen  hams  and  a  chest  of  black  tea  were  added  to  0111 
stores.     When  the  bill  for  fourteen  persons  (for  to  sucl 
dimensions  had  our  party  swelled),   with   extras   for  tb< 
ladies,  was  presented,  it  was  truly  alarming.     My  part 
the  sum  was  ten  dollars,  and  I  went  deep  into  my  pockets 
to  find  the  necessary  silver.      The  boatmen  had  stowed 
away  the  baggage  by  this  time ;   we  took  our  places  01 
the  boat  and  left  the  leaden  country  for  golden  prospect* 
in  Minnesota. 

The  boat  by  which  we  traveled  was  well  equipped,  fuj 
nished  excellent  fare  and  polite  service.  The  journey  ol 
three  hundred  miles  past  the  cities  of  Dubuque  and  La 
Crosse,  the  charming  Lake  Pepin,  the  fertile  lands  that 
spread  out  on  either  side  of  the  noble  stream,  and  the 
grand  forests  that  constituted  the  hunting-grounds  of  Sioux 
and  Chippewas,  was  truly  enchanting,  and  formed  a  never- 
to-be-forgotten  beautiful  experience. 

On  June  24,  1852,  our  voyage  ended,  and  we  stepped 
ashore  at  Fort  Snellinir. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MINNESOTA    PIONEERING. 

In  beginning  this  chapter,  I  am  led  to  wonder  what 
pioneers  are  to  expect  in  return  for  the  risks  they  run,  the 
calamities  they  bear,  the  perils  by  land  and  water,  the  un- 
certainties of  climate  and  soil,  the  loss  not  only  of  strength 
and  treasure,  but  often  of  life  itself.  In  reaching  a  new  coun- 
try, the  seas  of  grass  which  stretch  away  into  the  infinite  dis- 
tance seem  to  rise  behind  one  to  the  horizon  and  blot  into 
oblivion,  home,  friends,  vocation,  while  ahead  they  hide 
the  future  from  the  strained  gaze.  The  rivers  that  must 
be  forded,  the  dreaded  savages  which  seem  in  imagination 
to  be  brandishing  their  scalping-knives  on  the  opposite 
shores  or  on  the  rises  of  the  prairie,  make  a  climax  of  ter- 
rors, only  surpassed  by  the  horrors  of  life  awaiting  one 
from  pests,  famine,  and  often  pestilence,  in  the  new  life 
beyond. 

Fort  Snelling,  near  the  present  important  city  of  Min- 
neapolis, was  then  the  limit  of  northern  civilization.  Its 
commanding  officer  was  Captain  Steele.  The  site  was  on 
a  fine  plateau,  stretching  out  to  Crystal  and  Christmas 
lakes.  Magnificent  bridges  now  span  the  stream  over 
which  ferry-boats  used  to  pass  to  St.  Anthony's  Falls,  and 
the  rapids  are  utilized  for  running  mills  which  turn  the 
wheat  of  the  surrounding  country  into  flour  and  the  huge 
logs  of  the  forests  into  lumber.  The  city  of  Minneapolis 
long  since  included  St.  Anthony  within  its  limits,  and  only 
the  Falls  preserve  the  name  of  the  old  village. 

(61) 


62  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


In  1805,  the  United  States  purchased  of  the  Sioux  In- 
dians a  five-mile-square  of  land,  including  the  beautiful 
Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  and  in  1852  this  was  yet  a  military 
reservation.  When  we  settled  in  Minnesota,  Stillwater 
was  the  largest  town  and  St.  Paul  was  just  coming  into 
notice. 

Many  an  hour  when  no  noise  or  turmoil   of  traffic  dis- 
turbed the  sacred  solitude,  I  sat  on  the  bank  of  the  river 
and  gave  myself  up  to  the  mystic  influence  of  the  Falls. 
I   sometimes   fancied    that   a   phantom   hovered   over   th 
waters,   and   the  scene  of  a  long-gone  tragedy  stood   ou 
vividly  against  the  sky.     The  beautiful  Dacotah  maiden 
whose  lover-husband  had  deserted  her  for  a  new  love,  wh 
sent  her  birch-bark  canoe  over  the  precipice  and  let  th 
mad  waters  dash   out  her  life,  still  seemed  to  haunt  th 
place,  and  exercise  a  spell  over  falls,  river,  and  shore. 

But  I  have  not  mentioned   how  as  a  party  we  enjoyed 
the  ride  from  Fort  Snellirig  to  St.  Anthony.     Constant  ex- 
clamations at  the  beauty  of  the  forest,  the  river,  the  lovely 
Falls  of  Minnehaha  —  the  "Laughing  Waters"-  — rang  out. 
At  last  we  stopped  at  the  residence  of  Colonel  Stevens,  o 
the  present  site  of  Minneapolis.     He  entertained  us  unti 
we  could  reach  the  place  determined  upon  as  our  town-sit 
in   the  first   house   in   Minneapolis.      During  our  stay,  h 
took  us  across  the  river  to  visit  Governor  Ramsay,  the  first 
Territorial  executive  of  Minnesota,  whose  place  was  after- 
wards filled   by  Samuel    Medarv.      The  latter  was  one  of 
the  last  Territorial  Governors  of  Kansas.     Governor  Kani- 
say  treated  us  very  kindly.      We  dined  with  him  in  a  little 
house  not  much  like  the  usual  gubernatorial  mansion   o 
to-day. 

Leaving  the  women  with  our  new  friends,  Mr.  Bertram, 


MINNESOTA   PIONEHI! l \<;.  63 

myself  and  two  hired  men  sought  a  conveyance  to  take 
us  to  our  proposed  town-site.  Colonel  Stevens's  brother 
owned  a  small  saw-mill  at  the  outlet  of  Lake  Minnetonka, 
and  kept  there  a  small  flatboat,  which  he  loaned  us.  We 
loaded  the  boat  with  lumber  and  started  up  the  lake  to 
our  new  home,  Excelsior,  on  Lake  Minnetonka.  Night 
overtook  us,  our  boat  leaked,  and,  despite  our  efforts  at 
bailing  out  the  water,  we  felt  it  about  our  knees,  while  the 
howling  of  wolves  on  the  shores  added  to  our  terror  and 
fear  of  landing.  Our  jolly  boatman  tried  to  cheer  our 
fainting  spirits  by  telling  us  there  were  no  bears  in  the 
woods,  and  that  the  sounds  we  heard  were  made  by  big 
bullfrogs.  He  assured  us  further,  that,  far  from  being 
dangerous,  their  fat  carcasses  would  sell  for  fifty  cents 
apiece.  Not  particularly  reassured,  however,  by  his  cheer- 
ing words,  we  were  glad  when  we  reached  our  landing- 
place  and  had  a  rousing  fire  to  frighten  off  the  noisy 
beasts  of  the  forest. 

We  took  our  lumber  up  a  steep  bank  —  afterwards 
called  Brake's  Landing  —  placed  some  boards  slantwise 
upon  tree  branches,  and  with  our  faithful  axes  cut  some 
wood  for  our  fire,  by  which  we  heated  our  coffee  and  fried 
our  bacon  ;  after  which,  in  our  wet  clothes,  we  lay  down 
to  rest.  The  excitement  must  have  sustained  us,  for  we 
did  not  catch  cold.  In  the  morning  we  made  a  shanty 
with  bark  sides,  to  be  used  for  a  temporary  habitation, 
and  cleared  away  the  timber  for  a  site  for  Mr.  Bertram's 
home. 

There  were  eight  men  by  this  time  in  our  party.  After 
a  day's  work  and  two  nights  of  sleep,  with  the  ground  for 
a  bed,  three  of  our  party  went  down  on  the  boat  for  more 
lumber  and  other  necessaries,  and  on  reaching  the  saw-mill 


64  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

we  took  the  opportunity  to  visit  our  wives  at  St.  Anthony's. 
I  found  my  wife  in  a  comfortable  home  with  the  surveyor's 
wife,  a  Mrs.  Christmas ;   but,  to  iny  surprise,  Mrs.  Brake 
was  suffering  with  a  severe  illness,  brought  on  by  excit< 
ment.     I  made  every  arrangement  I  could  for  her  com- 
fort, and  as  soon  as  I  could  leave  her  I  returned  to  th< 
mill  with  the  other  men,  bought  the  lumber,  and  took  tin 
c- shakes"  (clapboards)  for  Mr.  Bertram's  roof.     As  it  wi 
nearly  dark,  we  remained  with  Mr.  Stevens  over  night. 
After  a  good  supper  —  for  the  new  climate  made  us  hungry 
as  bears  —  we  retired  to  rest.     There  were  twelve  persons 
present,  and  the  house  only  contained  a  small  kitchen  an< 
a    sleeping-room.     Although    everything   was    clean    am 
neat,    there   was    little    space    for    hospitality.     Necessit1 
proved    the   mother   of    invention.     The    twelve    persons 
were  placed  in  two  semi-circles  on  the  floor,  the  wornei 
in  one,  the  men  in  the  other,  the  soles  of  the  feet  turne< 
toward  the  center  of  the  circle.     In  the  morning,  break- 
fast  over,   we    bade   our    hospitable    host    good-bye,    an< 
headed    our    heavily-laden   boat  through   the   outlet   int< 
Lake  Minnetonka. 

So  contrary  was  the  wind,  and  so  difficult  the  mana< 
ment  of  the  boat,  that,  despite  our  efforts,  we  were  drivei 
to  the  wrong  side  of  a  strip  of  land  which  extended 
the  lake  and  was  known  as  Meeker's  Island,  thus  greatl; 
increasing  our  distance. 

On  our  way  we  passed  Spirit  Knob,  a  mound  about 
twenty-five  feet  high,  where  the  heavy  timber  began,  am 
where  deer  and  other  game  congregated.  The  Indians  hel< 
Spirit  Knob  in  reverence.  For  centuries  they  had  buried 
their  chiefs  upon  it,  and  the  spirits  of  the  dead  were  woi 
shiped  as  protectors. 


MINNESOTA    /'/o.VA'A'A'/JW,-.  65 

Au  old  Indian  fort  on  Meeker's  Island  also  attracted 
our  attention.  It  was  built  of  slender  logs  set  in  a  semi- 
circle, as  a  screen  against  arrows,  and  had  formerly  been 
used  by  the  Sioux  as  a  protection  against  the  Chippewas. 

The  boys,  having  believed  us  drowned,  were  more  than 
glad  to  see  us.  They  prepared  a  good  supper,  and  around 
the  evening  camp-fire  we  recounted  the  adventures  of  the 
day.  In  about  a  week,  President  Bertram's  two-roomed 
house  was  finished  and  occupied.  As  treasurer  of  the 
colony,  it  was  conceded  that  the  next  house  should  be 
mine.  Unfortunately,  my  wife's  illness  required  my  pres- 
ence at  St.  Anthony.  Dr.  Ames,  her  physician,  gave  me 
no  hope  for  her  life,  but  by  good  nursing  she  recovered, 
and  in  two  months  could  be  removed  to  Excelsior.  Other 
difficulties  also  confronted  me.  Birmingham,  iny  hired 
man,  who  was  heavily  in  debt  to  me,  cut  his  foot  while 
chopping,  and  immediately  left  for  St.  Anthony.  But  I 
plied  my  axe  vigorously,  and  with  the  help  of  a  man  named 
Dan  Farnham,  soon  had  my  house  ready  for  occupation. 
Without  my  wife,  the  one-roomed  log  cabin  with  its  out- 
side kitchen  canopied  by  the  heavens  was  too  lonely  for 
me,  and  when  we  had  made  two  bark  shanties,  one  for 
Farnham  and  the  other  for  a  man  named  Roberts  —  whom 
we  called  "Robinson  Crusoe"-— we  started  out  to  explore 
the  surrounding  region. 

We  were  greatly  pleased  with  our  new  home.  There 
were  no  enormous  rents  as  in  the  East,  and  we  had  laid  in 
a  stock  of  provisions  that  lasted  for  some  time.  The  lake 
abounded  in  fish,  and  in  the  forest  any  amount  of  game 
could  be  had  for  the  shooting.  Hunger  is  always  good 
sauce,  but  our  appetites  here  were  truly  voracious.  "Rob- 
inson Crusoe's"  shanty  was  on  the  margin  of  the  lake. 


66  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

Dressing  himself  in  a  buffalo-robe,  he  used  to  lie  in  am- 
bush and  shoot  ducks  enough  to  supply  the  whole  party. 
A  gun  was  a  novelty  to  me,  but  I  soon  learned  to  shoot, 
and  enjoyed  the  sport  as  much  as  the  other  boys.  Squir- 
rels and  partridges  were  especially  abundant,  and  we  fairly 
reveled  in  our  exchange  of  artificial  city  residence  for  gen- 
uine rural  life.  For  some  time  we  saw  neither  Indians  nor 
the  tracks  of  white  men,  and  the  magnificent  timber  of  the 
well-watered  fertile  region  impressed  ns  much  with  the 
grandeur  of  the  splendid  yet  lonely  forest  country  about 
us.  Returning  from  one  of  these  excursions  late  one  night, 
a  terrible  storm  gathered  over  our  bark  habitations.  The 
roar  of  the  white-capped  waves,  the  appalling  thunder,  the 
fearful  blackness,  relieved  only  by  the  vivid  lightning,  (for 
we  could  have  no  fire  for  the  rain,)  and  the  merciless  tor- 
rents of  water  that  poured  in  upon  us  through  the  curled-up 
bark  of  sides  and  roof,  made  us  for  the  first  time  long  for 
the  snowy  sheets  and  downy  pillows  of  civilization.  We 
had  no  change  of  clothing,  and  morning  dawned  before 
the  storm  abated  so  that  we  could  make  a  fire  and  dry  our 
clothing.  We  suffered  no  inconvenience,  however,  from 
the  wetting,  and,  as  soon  as  we  were  dry  and  had  break- 
fasted, set  about  clearing  up  a  spot  for  a  garden. 

In  our  wanderings,  Karnham  and  I  found  a  small  canoe, 
which  served  us  in  many  of  our  trips  down  the  lake.  All 
of  my  effects,  including  the  goods  purchased  at  ( Galena, 
were  at  Colonel  Stevens's,  and  Farnliam  and  myself  early 
made  a  trip  to  the  mill  for  supplies.  We  were  not  used 
to  paddling  a  canoe,  and  came  near  uettinjr  upset  several 
times  before  we  reached  the  outlet  of  the  lake.  Arrivin -• 
there  in  safety,  we  walked  twelve  miles  to  the  Falls,  where 
I  found  my  wife  convalescent.  After  two  days  spent  in 


j//.v.\7-> T/'. i   /'/ o.y /•:/•: ft /^TO.  67 

getting  a  team  strong  enough  to  haul  my  goods,  we  started 
home,  which  we  reached  before  dark. 

Crusoe's  bark  shanty  was  full  of  ducks  he  had  killed 
during  our  absence,  and  the  wolves  had  frightened  him 
badly  in  their  attempts  to  share  them  with  him.  Robin- 
son had  no  notion  of  going  through  any  more  pioneer  ex- 
periences, however,  and,  at  his  request,  I  took  him  with 
trunk  and  gnu  in  my  canoe  to  the  mill,  and  from  there  he 
went  to  St.  Paul,  where  he  found  work  as  a  painter  and 
remained  as  a  resident. 

Excelsior  now  began  to  improve.  Mr.  Bertram  secured 
two  yokes  of  oxen,  and  we  were  all  benefited  by  the  work 
of  these  strong,  faithful  animals.  Strangers  began  to  be 
attracted  to  our  new  town.  Charles  Galpin,  of  New  York, 
a  Baptist,  was  the  first  preacher  in  the  new  settlement, 
and  we  found  him  a  great  addition.  His  brother,  George 
Galpin,  a  Methodist  minister,  followed  him,  and  when  a 
carpenter  named  McGrath  joined  us  we  at  once  decided 
that  none  of  the  elements  was  lacking  for  the  building  of 
a  church.  With  the  oxen  we  soon  prepared  a  place  for  it. 
The  building  was  a  small  frame  one,  concreted  on  the  in- 
side to  shut  out  the  cold. 

By  the  time  my  wife  could  travel,  we  had  cleared  a 
patch  of  land,  and  had  proudly  sowed  it  in  turnips.  The 
meridian  lines  were  run  soon  after,  and  I  found  myself  in 
possession  of  a  quarter-section  of  land  fronting  Lake  Min- 
netonka.  Our  worst  inconvenience  now  was  from  wet 
weather.  Whenever  it  rained,  we  slept  with  an  umbrella 
over  our  heads  to  keep  the  water  out  of  our  faces,  or  every 
shower  would  have  given  us  a  baptism.  By  dint  of  in- 
cessant labor  we  at  last  stopped  the  leaks,  greatly  to  our 
comfort  while  in  the  house. 


68  ON  TWO   CONTINENT^. 

About  the  middle  of  September,  a  man  named  Buchanan 
visited  Excelsior,  and  engaged  in  some  speculations.  Mr. 
Buchanan  had  married  a  New  York  actress,  and  wished  to 
bring  her  to  Minnesota.  As  there  were  no  vacant  houses 
in  the  village,  I  rented  him  a  room  in  my  new  log  house 
on  my  land.  As  I  had  sold  my  house  in  Excelsior  to  an- 
other new-comer,  we  moved  into  the  farm-house  before 
either  of  its  four  rooms  was  finished,  and  it  took  some 
time  to  "chink"  the  crevices  with  mud  and  cover  the  roof 
with  "shakes."  But  when  it  was  finished  we  had  no  rep- 
etitions of  the  umbrella  experience.  My  goods  reached 
us  about  the  time  we  moved  into  the  house.  They  had  to 
be  carted  from  St.  Paul  to  Stevens's  mill,  and  then  brought 
by  boat. 

Mr.  Buchanan  and  his  newly-wedded  wife  arrived,  and 
were  greatly  surprised  to  find  a  commodious,  well-furnished 
room,  with  a  good  fireplace,  in  which  to  spend  their  honey- 
moon. Mrs.  Buchanan  had  learned  to  smoke  during  her 
stage  career,  and  at  her  request  we  smoked  a  pipe  of  peace 
on  native  Indian  soil.  This  was  the  first  romance  in  our 
colony,  and  all  of  us  enjoyed  it  more  than  lovers  of  fiction 
enjoy  the  pages  of  a  new  novel.  But  the  bride  soon  tired 
of  the  rustic  surroundings,  and  persuaded  her  admiring 
husband  to  move  to  St.  Paul,  where  her  beauty  and  talents 
snnn  made  her  a  fashionable  favorite. 

Our  subsistence  was  now  the  question.  We  could  not 
live  like  the  Indians,  on  game  and  fish,  and  the  novelty 
of  woodland  life  was  wearing  off.  We  would  need  some- 
thing more  substantial  than  the  autumnal  beauty  of  the 
forest  or  moonlight  upon  the  lake.  So  I  set  Charlie  Her- 
man, a  great,  strapping  fellow,  to  work  to  clear  up  two 
acres  of  ground.  But  the  possibility  of  a  future  crop 


PIONEERING.  G9 

could  not  provide  for  the  emergencies  of  the  present. 
Farnham,  who  had  been  a  pioneer  in  the  State  of  Maine, 
and  whose  claim  lay  by  the  side  of  mine,  pointed  out  to 
me  the  fine  sugar-maples  among  the  timber.  I  was  as 
simple  as  a  child. 

"Can  we  get  some  sugar  out  of  them  ?"  I  asked. 

Farnham  laughed,  and  replied  : 

"You  luny !  didn't  you  know  that?  Why,  we  can 
easily  make  ten  barrels  of  syrup  out  of  those  trees  this 
winter,  and  sugar  enough  for  years  to  come." 

"But  what  can  I  do?  "  I  asked.  "I  have  no  money  to 
spare  for  help  in  doing  the  work,  neither  have  I  had  any 
experience  of  it." 

"Nonsense,"  he  answered ;   "you  have  befriended  me 
and  I  am  not  going  to  desert  yon.     If  you  want  to  go  into 
this  thing,  I  will  help  you,  and  we  will  make  some  money 
out  of  it." 

"It  will  take  money,"  I  said  ;  "but  if  you  will  help  me, 
I  will  foot  the  bills.  What  shall  we  do  first  ?  " 

"Build  two  sugar-houses,"  he  replied  —  "one  for  boil- 
ing sugar-water,  and  one  for  finishing  off.  We  can  make 
'shakes'  for  a  covering  for  them.  We  will  want  Russian 
iron  enough  to  make  two  boilers,  and  something  to  hold 
the  sugar-water  after  it  runs  from  the  trees." 

A  happy  thought  struck  me. 

"I  '11  get  some  canoes,"  I  said,  (the  Indians  had  left  a 
lot  of  them  on  the  shore  of  the  lake,)  "to  hold  the  water, 
and  I  will  go  to  St.  Paul  and  buy  some  barrels  to  put  the 
rest  in ;  but  what  will  we  put  under  the  trees  ? " 

"Troughs,  of  course,"  laughed  Farnham  ;  "we  can  hew 
them  out  of  linn  or  basswood,  five  hundred  of  them ;  and 
we  will  make  a  thousand  spigots,  too.  There  is  plenty  of 


70  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

sumach  around  here  for  them.     It  will  give  us  plenty  oi 
amusement  for  the  fall  and  winter." 

And  so  it  was  settled,  and  our  work  for  several  months 
ahead  was  now  planned. 

While  we  were  doing  our  first  year's  work,  we  did  not 
have  to  do  without  fruit,  for  above  us  was  a  small  lake, 
mile  long  and  half  a  mile  wide,  which  we  called  "  Chi 
lotte,"  after  my  wife,  and  on  its  margin  was  a  cranberry 
marsh   which   provided   us  in   the    berry   season  with   ai 
abundance  of  fresh,  ripe  fruit. 

We  heaped  up  the  logs  and  brush  from  our  clearing. 
While  these  heaps  burned,  we  got  out  the  blocks  for  the 
shingles  to  cover  our  sugar-houses,  and  made  every  prep- 
aration possible  for  sugar-making. 

During  all  this  time,  although  many  persons  had  arrived 
in  and  settled  around  Excelsior,  and  the  business  of  clear- 
ing up  farms  was  going  rapidly  forward,  we  suffered  many 
deprivations.  One  of  these  was  for  milk  and  butter, 
there  was  not  a  cow  within  twenty  miles.  As  I  had  no 
horse,  I  went  on  foot  in  search  of  a  cow.  I  found  one  foi 
sale  near  St.  Paul,  and  paid  sixty  dollars  for  her.  I  had 
thirty  miles  to  drive  her,  and  it  took  me  three  days  from 
the  time  I  left  to  get  home.  Half  way,  I  thought  I  would 
rest  myself  and  the  cow.  Throwing  myself  down  under  a 
tree,  I  fell  asleep,  and  the  wicked  creature  took  advantage 
of  my  slumber  to  depart  without  bidding  me  good-bye. 
When  I  woke  up  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  go 
back  to  St.  Paul,  pay  for  a  night's  lodging  for  myself  and 
for  the  cow's  extra  keep,  and  take  a  fresh  start  in  the 
morning.  The  cow  did  not  get  out  of  my  sight  the  rest 
of  the  way,  and  at  midnight  I  reached  home  and  put  the 
animal  in  the  new  stable  Farnham  had  built  during  my 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  71 

absence.     Our  new  acquisition  proved  a  valuable  one,  and 
we  were  now  much  more  comfortable. 

Winter  fell  upon  us  early  in  November,  but  our  ready 
axes  and  adzes  already  had  hewn  out  our  troughs,  and  cut 
the  lengths  of  sumach  for  spigots.  With  our  prospective 
comfort  from  good  food  and  warm  fires  before  us,  we 
were  quite  ready  to  go  under  shelter.  During  the  cold 
weather,  we  worked  in  the  house  at  the  spigots.  They 
were  seven  inches  long,  and  three  inches  were  left  round 
for  insertion  into  the  tree.  The  pith  was  bored  out  of  the 
end  to  be  inserted,  and  the  rest  of  the  spigot  was  sloped 
off,  and  a  groove  made  for  the  passage  of  the  sugar-water 
from  the  tree  to  the  trough. 

The  winter  was  very  cold,  the  thermometer  sometimes 
registering  forty  degrees  below  zero.  We  had  raised  little 
during  the  year,  and  there  was  much  suffering  for  the 
necessaries  of  life  in  the  new  colony.  I  cut  slough-grass 
for  my  cattle,  and  they  lived  through  the  winter  arid  fared 
very  well.  My  wife  suffered  much  from  the  severity  of  the 
climate,  and  we  were  all  glad  when  February  came. 

While  we  were  busy  with  the  sugar  work,  a  company  of 
twenty  Sioux  Indians  visited  our  camp,  and  overran  my 
house.  My  wife  showed  no  fear  of  them,  and  they  quite 
amused  me,  but  several  of  our  people  hid  until  the  Indians 
were  gone.  Our  furniture,  particularly  the  carpets  and 
rugs,  delighted  the  wild  creatures,  who  had  come  from  a 
camp,  named  for  their  chief — "Shockapi."  When  they 
saw  themselves  reflected  in  a  large  pier-glass,  they  nearly 
went  into  fits  of  ecstacy.  The  braves  were  painted  black, 
white,  yellow  and  red,  and  the  squaws,  save  for  a  sort  of 
apron,  were  entirely  nude.  They  were  beauties  long  re- 
membered. They  bought  fifty  cents  worth  of  pork  of  me, 


72  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

and  going  out  to  some  logs,  they  piled  up  chips  and  cookec 
a  sort  of  pudding  they  called  utooley."  They  were  as 
happy  as  clams  while  they  ate  it,  and  then  the  big  braves 
rested  while  the  squaws  cut  down  a  great  tree  I  gave  them. 
In  the  morning,  these  worthies  went  down  the  lake,  and 
the  poor  squaws  hewed  out  a  canoe,  made  some  paddles, 
and  that  night  by  the  light  of  the  moon  rowed  after  their 
lords  and  masters.  We  saw  them  no  more.  The  military 
authorities  at  Fort  Snelling  sent  out  troops  in  various  di- 
rections to  watch  the  Indians,  and  this  perhaps  had  much 
to  do  with  their  peaceable  visits  to  white  men. 

Once  after  this  —  in  the  following  summer  —  Shockapi 
and  fifty  or  sixty  of  his  tribe  came  to  my  cabin.  We  were 
eating  dinner,  and  we  went  on  with  our  meal,  paying  no 
attention  to  the  wild  words  and  gestures  of  the  chief  and 
his  squaw.  Meanwhile,  the  other  squaws  put  up  tents  all 
around  us,  and  Lottie  was  frightened  when  the  old  one 
mentioned  walked  in,  picked  up  our  teapot  and  motioned 
for  some  tea  to  be  put  into  it.  Then,  seizing  a  knife,  fork, 
plate,  cup  and  saucer,  she  marched  off  with  the  spoils  to 
her  tepee,  where  a  little  later  we  found  her  dining  in  great 
style.  The  rest  of  them  were  engaged  in  pulling  up  all 
my  squash-  and  pumpkin-vines,  and  in  cooking  the  fruit  in 
their  dirty  kettles. 

I  had  earnestly  entreated  Captain  Steele  of  the  Fort  to 
have  the  Indians  removed  from  the  neighborhood,  and 
hearing  of  the  order  for  their  removal,  Shockapi  had  come 
to  sell  me  his  canoes  and  to  show  his  resentment.  He 
now  called  them  all  before  him  and  made  a  long  oration. 
Tears  rolled  down  their  swarthy  cheeks  as  his  eloquence 
grew  more  powerful.  I  knew  enough  of  their  language  to 
know  that  he  was  telling  them  that  they  were  leaving  for- 


ML\M-:SOTA  PIONEERING.  73 

ever  their  favorite  hunting-grounds,  where  they  had  so 
long  enjoyed  freedom  and  happiness.  I  bought  all  of 
their  paddles  and  canoes,  and  the  Indians  departed.  Poor 
Shockapi !  I  pitied  him  and  his  friends  from  my  heart. 

By  the  first  of  March  we  needed  vast  hogsheads  for  the 
supply,  and  had  only  a  few  barrels.  Farnham  and  I  started 
in  different  directions  to  look  for  something  that  could  be 
converted  into  use,  and  were  fortunate  enough  to  find  sev- 
eral large  Indian  canoes.  We  took  them  into  the  camp 
just  in  time  to  save  the  sugar-water.  We  had  spent  a  week 
boring  the  trees,  inserting  spigots,  placing  troughs  under 
the  five  hundred  trees,  and  stopping  leaky  spots  in  the  ca- 
noes. The  snow  was  cleared  away,  and  we  worked  briskly 
amidst  the  crackling  and  popping  of  thawing  trees  and  the 
constant  crashing  and  thundering  of  the  breaking  ice  on 
Lake  Minnetonka.  By  the  first  of  April,  we  had  begun 
the  sugar-making  in  earnest,  and  the  work  of  collecting 
the  syrup,  boiling  it  down,  straining  and  skimming  it,  oc- 
cupied all  of  our  time,  except  snatched  moments  when  we 
shot  squirrels  for  a  change,  these  little  creatures  being  very 
plentiful. 

I  used  to  wonder,  as  we  worked  in  our  lively  camp,  if 
Father  Hennepin,  in  his  exploration  of  other  and  perhaps 
better  worlds,  looked  clown  sometimes  upon  the  county  in 
Minnesota  which  bore  his  name,  and  saw  his  successors 
early  trying  to  draw  sweetness  from  the  somber  forest 
through  which  as  an  earthly  pilgrim  he  had  strayed.  For 
our  camp  had  become  quite  famous,  and  merry  parties  of 
pleasure-seekers  came  from  St.  Anthony  and  St.  Paul  to 
visit  us.  Work  by  night  as  well  as  by  day  was  necessary, 
and  the  great  fires,  the  interested  faces  about  them,  the 
black  shadows  of  the  forest,  doubly  intensified  by  the  flame 


—6 


74:  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

and  smoke,  and  the  sounds  of  the  night  heightened  by  the 
roar  of  the  grinding  ice,  formed  a  never-to-be-forgotten  ex- 
perience. Many  of  the  visitors  to  our  camp  brought  with 
them  not  only  luncheon,  but  brandy.  They  mixed  it  with 
maple  syrup,  and  under  its  exhilarating  influence  they  told 
stories,  sang  gleeful  songs,  and  in  the  morning  went  off  de- 
claring themselves  delighted  with  camp  experience.  Some 
insisted  that  we  were  doing  wonders  in  these  woods  ;  others 
envied  our  success,  and  predicted  speedy  failure.  But  as 
early  as  the  25th  of  March,  1853,  we  had  produced  a  barrel 
of  genuine  maple  syrup,  for  which  a  St.  Anthony  mer- 
chant, who  was  in  our  camp,  not  only  paid  us  a  dollar  and 
a  quarter  a  gallon,  but  engaged  all  we  could  make  that 
spring.  He  sent  us  four  empty  barrels,  and  by  April  10th 
we  had  filled  them,  and  received  two  hundred  dollars 
their  contents.  Up  to  the  last  of  April  our  work  conl 
ued,  gradually  decreasing,  until  at  last  the  sap  got  up 
the  trees,  the  sugar-water  stopped  running,  and  we  put  awi 
our  spigots,  troughs,  and  canoes,  and  plugged  the  holes 
the  trees.  Our  sugar  work  was  over  for  that  year, 
the  energy,  perseverance  and  labor  required  to  make 
success  of  it,  no  idea  can  be  given. 

The  merry  month  of  May  was  ushered  in  in  Hennepi 
county  to  the  sound  of  the  chopper's  axe,  of  falling  tre( 
the  plowman's  cry  to  his  oxen,  and  the  merry  voices  of 
happy  people,  who  realized  that  their  home  was  a  paradise 
on  earth,  and  if  its  soil  could  only  be  brought  into  the 
proper  conditions,  would  prove  a  veritable  Kden  in  its 
productiveness.  Several  small  houses  had  been  built  in 
Excelsior,  the  lots  cleared  of  timber  and  converted  into 
gardens,  where  women  planted  garden  seeds  and  flowers, 
and  all  anxiously  prepared  for  the  expected  harvest.  Mu- 


.W.V.Y/->07M    PIONEERING.  75 

nicipal  matters  were  discussed  as  assiduously  between  the 
pauses  of  axe  and  adz  as  in  New  York  or  Boston.  Mr. 
Giilpin  preached  to  us  every  Sunday,  and  reminded  us 
that  we  were  Christians  though  we  lived  in  a  wilderness, 
and  that  we  must  make  the  town  what  its  name  implied. 
Many  children  were  now  in  the  neighborhood,  and  a 
school-house  was  built  and  a  teacher  employed  to  teach 
them. 

While  the  ground  was  too  cold  for  corn,  we  planted 
potatoes,  turnips,  and  other  vegetables,  and  I  made  a  hot- 
bed, and  early  had  cabbage  plants  ready  for  transplanting. 
I  made  a  fence  of  pickets  around  my  garden,  and  was  re- 
warded for  my  labor  by  raising  from  the  Jenny  Lind  va- 
riety of  potatoes  six  hundred  bushels  to  the  acre.  The 
changes  from  cold  to  heat  and  from  heat  to  cold  were 
remarkable  for  their  rapidity.  So  oppressive  was  the 
heat  during  part  of  the  time  that  the  oxen  often  laid 
down,  completely  overcome.  We  planted  our  corn  with 
the  hoe. 

Our  small  clearing  planted,  Farnham  and  I  built  us  a 
boat  and  explored  the  lake-shores.  Meeker's  Island  (after- 
wards bought  by  Farnham)  was  also  visited.  We  were 
horrified  to  witness,  during  one  of  these  excursions,  a 
brutal  murder.  A  party  of  Sioux  Indians,  then  on  the 
war-path  against  the  Chippewas,  had  captured  one  of  the 
latter  tribe  and  fastened  him  to  a  tree  on  the  island. 
Around  him  they  had  piled  brush  and  other  dry  materials 
which  they  had  ignited,  and  the  flames  were  leaping  up 
around  the  doomed  Indian.  Powerless  to  avert  the  holo- 
caust, we  watched  the  terrible  scene  with  a  fascination  im- 
possible to  describe.  The  leaping,  shouting  savages  in 
their  hideous  war-paint  and  feathers,  the  stolidity  of  the 


76  'ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

victim,  thrown  into  relief  against  -the  gloomy  background 
of  sky  and  forest  by  the  flames  of  the  funeral  pile,  held 
our  attention  until  it  was  almost  too  late  to  pusli  away  un- 
seen in  our  canoe.  In  the  morning,  we  visited  the  spot 
where  the  crime  occurred,  removed  the  still  smoking  fagots 
and  found  bits  of  human  bones,  a  finger-joint,  and  part  of 
a  skull.  But  for  this,  we  might  have  believed  the  scene 
of  the  previous  night  but  a  dream.  Sick  with  horror,  we 
were  glad  to  leave  the  place  and  go  on  to  the  Minnetonka 
mill-house. 

The  lake  was  still  full  of  blocks  of  floating  ice,  and  our 
boat  was  too  frail  to  carry  a  burden  in  its  waters ;  so  we 
borrowed  Mr.  Stevens's  boat  again,  and  took  with  us  a 
load  of  lumber.  We  progressed  rapidly  until  we  left  the 
outlet  of  the  lake,  a  distance  of  two  miles,  passed  Spirit 
Knob  in  safety,  and  would  soon  have  reached  Brake's 
Landing,  had  not  contrary  winds  driven  us  back.  Al- 
though late  in  the  spring,  the  ice  ground  against  our  boat 
in  masses,  threatening  to  overwhelm  us  in  the  water. 
Neither  of  us  had  much  knowledge  of  managing  a  boat, 
and  the  consequence  was  we  were  driven  to  shore  oppo- 
site Meeker's  Island,  seven  or  eight  miles  from  home. 

The  prospect  of  spending  the  night  in  this  wild  region, 
surrounded  by  panthers,  wolves,  and  other  dangerous  ani- 
mals, (to  say  nothing  of  Indians.)  in  our  wet  clothing,  and 
without  food,  was  far  from  pleasant.  To  encounter  the 
raging  winds  and  the  thick  darkness  of  the  lake,  was  not 
to  be  considered.  Better  a  death  upon  terra  firma  at  the 
hands  of  Sioux  or  Chippewas,  than  a  watery  grave  in 
.Minnetonka.  We  had  no  guns  with  us,  but  we  fortu- 
nately had  a  knife,  axe,  and  a  few  matches.  We  fastened 
our  boat,  gathered  some  dry  wood  in  the  darkness,  and 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  77 

made  a  fire,  by  which  we  spent  the  night.  Sleep  was  out 
of  the  question.  There  were  noises  of  all  sorts  about  us. 
Besides  the  roaring  waters,  wolves  howled,  and  the  woods 
seemed  full  of  sounds ;  and,  as  I  sat  smoking  by  the  blaz- 
ing fire,  brooding  over  our  danger,  and  my  wife's  fears 
for  my  safety,  I  wished  most  heartily  that  I  had  never  un- 
dertaken the  life  of  a  pioneer. 

After  daylight,  we  found  an  abandoned  shelter  near  by, 
where  some  enterprising  person  had  evidently  tried  to 
prove  up  on  a  claim,  and  left  it  in  disgust.  A  few  kettles 
and  a  couple  of  buffalo-robes  were  all  that  remained  of  his 
deserted  furniture.  We  wrapped  ourselves  up  in  the  robes 
and  dried  some  of  our  garments  by  the  fire  before  we 
started  home. 

During  the  night  I  had  asked  Farnham  to  sing  us  a 
song,  to  pass  away  the  time. 

"Song  be  d — d  !  "  said  Farnham;  "we  have  too  many 
songs  about  us  now.  Wouldn't  we  look  great,  singing 
songs  of  Zion  beside  these  strange  waters  ?  No  siree  ! 
I  've  hung  my  harp  on  the  willow !  " 

In  the  morning,  when  our  boat  was  headed  homeward, 
and  the  wind  had  fallen  —  making  our  passage  compara- 
tively safe  —  Farnham,  hoping  to  have  some  fun,  said  to 
me  : 

"Sing  us  a  song,  Brake  ;   we  seem  now  to  be  all  right." 

"Not  much,"  I  answered  ;  "I  am  too  hungry  for  music." 

"But  it  will  pass  off  the  time,"  he  said;  you  know,  I 
have  heard  you  say  that  you  sang  'Row,  brothers,  row,'  on 
your  way  up  the  St.  Lawrence,  some  years  ago.  I  know 
you  can  sing." 

"I  did,"  I  replied,  "but  I  was  younger  then,  and  had 
not  fasted  twenty-four  hours  in  wet  clothing,  without  shel- 


78  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

ter;  besides,  I  haven't  forgotten  Jerusalem,  and  I  will 
not  sing  by  the  waters  of  Babylon." 

We  were  almost  starved,  and  woefully  jaded,  when  at 
last  we  reached  the  presence  of  my  distracted  wife.  As 
soon  as  I  could  assure  her  of  our  perfect  safety,  we  ate 
ourselves  nearly  to  death,  and  then  went  to  sleep.  Our 
slumbers  were  so  protracted  that  my  wife  became  alarmed 
for  fear  we  would  never  wake  again ;  but,  as  usual,  our 
exposure  and  danger  left  us  unharmed. 

We  had  bought  the  lumber  to  make  us  a  boat,  and  as 
soon  as  our  sturdy  hoes  had  headed  off  the  weeds  in  gar- 
den and  field,  and  the  seeds  for  summer  plants,  such  as 
squashes  and  other  vines,  had  been  sown,  we  finished  our 
craft.  We  made  a  box  to  trail  behind,  put  our  fishing- 
tackle  in  the  boat,  and  tried  our  luck  at  fishing.  The 
evening  usually  proved  the  best  time  for  the  sport.  In 
two  hours  we  could  catch  enough  fish  to  last  us  a  week. 
They  wrere  mostly  bass  and  pickerel,  very  fine  and  fat. 
We  always  threw  them  into  the  box  of  water,  where  they 
would  live  for  a  week  at  a  time.  We  sometimes  saw  In- 
dians on  the  lake,  and  they  often  persisted  in  fastening 
our  boat  to  theirs  and  towing  us  down  stream,  greatly  to 
my  wife's  terror. 

By  July,  there  were  some  seventy-five  persons  living  in 
our  neighborhood.  Some  of  these  early  pioneers  deserve 
especial  mention.  A  gentleman  from  Clinton,  Illinois, 
named  Peter  Gideon,  laid  out  the  first  orchard,  became 
well  known  as  a  fruit-raiser,  propagated  the  " Wealthy" 
apple,  received  encouragement  in  his  work  from  the  State, 
and  made  Hnmepin  county  his  permanent  home.  A  Mr. 
Hull,  a  Universalist  preacher,  who  settled  there  at  the 
same  time,  started  the  first  ferry.  It  was  on  his  claim  at 


MINNESOTA    riONEERING.  79 

the  Narrows,  a  strait  between  the  upper  and  lower  divi- 
sions of  Minnetonka. 

The  experiences  of  the  previous  year  repeated  them- 
selves. In  addition  to  our  other  work,  Farnham  and  I 
built  a  house  and  dug  a  well  for  a  man  named  Latterner. 
We  also  cleared  ten  acres  of  land  for  him.  This  new  land 
produced  eighty  bushels  of  corn  to  the  acre  the  following 
year,  and  the  grain  sold  for  a  dollar  a  bushel. 

Grasshoppers  visited  us  in  the  early  fall  of  1854,  and 
destroyed  the  corn  crop. 

Winter  set  in  early  in  November,  and  by  December  the 
snow  was  four  feet  deep.  A  terrible  blizzard,  lasting  forty- 
eight  hours,  struck  our  county  in  January,  1855.  With  the 
snow  so  deep  it  was  almost  impossible  to  care  for  our  stock, 
the  thermometer  forty  degrees  below  zero,  the  bitter  storm 
still  raging,  while  even  by  a  red -hot  stove  people  were 
chilled  with  the  cold,  it  seemed  our  most  cruel  experience. 
When  the  storm  abated,  the  oxen  and  cow  were  safe,  but 
nearly  all  our  chickens  were  frozen  to  death. 

Minks  and  rats  were  so  plentiful  that  the  few  remaining 
chickens  soon  met  a  bloody  fate  from  these  animals.  Cats 
there  were  none.  Parties  living  in  Excelsior  offered  a  dol- 
lar apiece  for  these  domestic  creatures,  and  upon  the  ad- 
vent of  the  first  one  it  was  hailed  as  a  deliverer. 

The  clearing  of  the  blocked-up  roads  took  some  time. 
My  oxen  proved  of  great  value  in  this  work,  and  I  freely 
devoted  them  to  the  public  service. 

About  this  time  the  first  store  was  started  in  Excelsior, 
and  we  were  enabled  to  buy  our  groceries  without  going 
all  the  way  to  St.  Anthony  or  St.  Paul  —  Minneapolis  not 
then  being  in  existence,  except  for  a  few  frame  houses 


80  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

near  the  west  side  of  the  river  opposite  St.  Anthony.  A 
little  later,  however,  a  tine  bridge  spanned  the  river. 

Our  first  lawsuit  was  over  the  oxen,  whose  services  we 
had  all  found  so  indispensable.  They  had  been  purchased 
by  Mr.  Charles  Galpin,  and  1  bought  them  of  him.  An 
officer  of  the  law  who  had  been  instructed  to  collect  some 
indebtedness  of  Mr.  Galpin  in  New  York,  served  a  gar- 
nishment against  the  payment  of  the  money,  and,  greatly 
to  my  annoyance,  an  action  was  immediately  brought  in 
court.  Mr.  Galpin  won  the  case,  and  I  paid  him,  keeping 
the  cattle.  The  suit  caused  the  first  ill-feeling  in  the  set- 
tlement. 

The  spring  of  1855  found  us  all  busy  extending  our 
clearings,  and  Farnham  and  myself,  who  were  still  part- 
ners, under  contract  to  build  some  good  log  houses  for  a 
party  of  New  England  people.  I  had  found  and  hired  a 
stout  Irish  boy  named  Pat  Murphy  to  stay  with  my  wife 
and  assist  her  with  the  gardening. 

On  the  first  day  of  May  I  took  the  oxen  and  traveled 
northward  into  the  big  woods.  There  were  no  roads,  but 
we  had  previously  blazed  the  trees  to  the  locations,  and, 
as  I  carried  a  pocket  compass,  we  were  not  afraid  of  get- 
ting lost.  No  surveys  had  been  made  here  except  the 
running  of  the  meridian  lines.  The  timber  was  so  thick 
that  it  took  some  time  to  clear  a  place  for  a  house.  A 
week  of  arduous  labor  in  the  dense,  lonely  forest  made  us 
rejoice  when  the  Sabbath  dawned.  We  did  not  listen  that 
day  to  Henry  Ward  Beecher  or  Dr.  Tyng,  neither  did  we 
sit  during  service  in  a  grand  cathedral  amidst  the  arches 
of  whose  vaulted  roof  the  grand  tones  of  a  mighty  organ 
reverberated,  and  the  sweet  sounds  of  cultured  voices  lin- 
gered;  but  in  our  little  plain  chapel  a  plain  man  preached 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  81 

to  us  plain  truths,  and  we  all  joined  heartily  in  the  simple 
hymns,   and   rejoiced    in   the   thought  of    the    poet,   that 

"  Sweet  on  that  sacred  Sabbath  Day, 
That  day  of  cairn  and  holy  rest, 
From  earth's  wild  cares  to  soar  away, 
To  think  of  regions  pure  and  blest ; 
Far  off  to  wing  our  spirit's  flight 
To  sparkling  realms  of  purest  light." 

The  two  cabins,  which  were  finished  in  a  couple  of 
months,  would  hardly  please  the  eye  of  the  fastidious  resi- 
dent of  to-day.  And  yet  they  were  strong,  well  built,  and 
comfortable.  They  cost  fifty  dollars  apiece  ;  were  made 
of  hewn  logs,  covered  with  "shakes,"  and  had  each  a 
boarded  door  six  feet  high  and  three  feet  wide.  The  aper- 
tures between  the  logs  were  "  chinked  "  with  stones  and 
chips,  and  filled  in  with  mud. 

When  the  families  had  occupied  these  cabins,  we  built  a 
third  for  one  of  their  friends.  As  it  was  only  about  three 
miles  from  home,  we  walked  there  in  the  morning  and  re- 
turned late  at  night.  We  always  carried  our  guns  with  us, 
as  wolves  frequently  followed  us.  I  owned  about  half  a 
dozen  good-sized  pigs  at  that  time,  and  they  took  to  fol- 
lowing us.  The  constant  squealing  and  grunting  they 
kept  up  in  their  attempts  to  keep  us  in  sight,  frightened 
away  the  wild  animals  both  going  in  the  morning  and  re- 
turning at  night,  for  the  pigs  stayed  in  sight,  eating  mast, 
all  day.  Pat  facetiously  declared  we  were  well  protected 
by  both  a  van  and  a  rear  guard,  besides  carrying  English, 
American,  and  Irish  "arms."  My  own  arms  often  ached 
too  wearily  to  care  for  Pat's  commentaries.  But  it  was 
true  that  wild-cats,  wolves,  and  even  owls,  kept  still  while 
those  shoats  squealed.  They  were  all  doubtless  paralyzed 


82  0^  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

with  shame  that  their  whole  chorus  could  not  make  as 
much  noise  as  five  pigs. 

I  now  sold  my  cattle,  and  purchased  a  yoke  of  steers  of 
Mr.  Bertram.  At  a  great  sacrifice,  I  paid  for  them  by 
deeding  him  seven  lots  on  Oyster  Bay,  near  Flushing,  but 
I  needed  the  oxen  more  than  the  lots.  I  decided  to  start 
a  new  settlement,  perhaps  near  Buffalo  Lake,  and  went 
down  to  St.  Anthony  and  persuaded  several  men  to  join 
in  the  scheme  by  promising  to  conduct  the  business,  as 
Mr.  Farnham  had  gone  upon  his  claim.  A  meeting  was 
held  at  my  house  near  Excelsior  a  week  later,  and  the  ar- 
rangements were  made. 

Mr.  Langdon,  one  of  our  company,  being  ill,  we  post- 
poned our  plans  for  ten  days,  during  which  time  I  turned 
my  attention  to  our  crop.  The  time  had  been  so  fully  em- 
ployed that  it  was  now  the  20th  of  June,  and  too  late  for 
clearing  land  for  corn-planting.  But  I  saw  that  a  patch  of 
partly-cleared  land  could  by  some  work  be  utilized  for  sow- 
ing corn  broadcast  for  cattle-feed. 

We  yoked  the  cattle  and  went  out  to  survey  the  field. 
Pat  evidently  did  not  relish  the  log-rolling  and  burning. 
He  scratched  his  head  and  said  comically  — 

"I've  something  in  me  head,  Mr.  Brake." 

"  So  I  would  suppose,"  I  answered. 

uAn'  did  ye  niver  hear  of  Mr.  Fox  and  what  he  said  to 
a  lady  {  That's  a  sort  of  quotation." 

"What  was  it  Pat?  "  I  asked. 

"Why  he  wor'  payin'  his  respects  to  the  lady,  an'  she 
told  him  she  did  n't  care  for  him  the  weight  of  a  creeper. 
She  wor'  play  in'  with  a  creeper  flower,  an'  meant  that." 

"And  what  did  Mr.  Fox  reply,  Pat  (  " 


MINNESOTA    PIONEERING.  83 

"Och  !   he  just  wrote  in  her  album  these  very  appropri- 
ate words,  of  which  I've  been  makin'  a  sort  of  translation : 
"  4I  forgive  you,  dear  lady,  for  what  you  have  said  ; 
Women  will  talk  of  things  that  run  in  the  head.' 

"I've  got  somethin'  now  runnin'  in  me  head,  an'  like  a 
woman  must  talk  of  it.  What  do  ye  say  to  a  loggin' 
bee?" 

"I  say  it  is  a  happy  thought,  Pat,"  I  replied,  "and  we 
will  have  one." 

So  we  had  an  old-fashioned  log-rolling.  Three  of  our 
neighbors  came  with  their  teams,  and  while  the  women 
visited,  and  prepared  us  excellent  dinners  and  suppers,  we 
had  a  merry  time  heaping  up  and  burning  the  great  fires. 
In  two  days  the  work  was  done,  and  Pat  scratched  his 
head  with  increased  satisfaction.  It  seemed  almost  a  sin 
to  destroy  the  magnificent  timber,  but  we  could  neither 
sell  nor  use  it,  and  were  obliged  to  burn  it  in  order  to 
plant  the  land.  When  the  fires  were  out,  I  sowed  the  corn 
and  Pat  harrowed  it  in,  and  as  a  rain  fell  just  after,  in  an 
incredibly  short  time  our  brush-patch  was  converted  into  a 
green  and  growing  field. 

Visitors  now  were  plentiful  in  Excelsior  ;  dozens  of  per- 
sons, attracted  by  the  scenery,  the  hunting  and  fishing, 
camped  on  Lake  Minnetonka,  or  floated  about  in  boats 
on  its  waters.  A  boarding-house  was  opened,  a  saw-mill 
started,  and  a  doctor  settled  among  us.  So  healthy  was 
the  climate  that  Dr.  Snell  turned  'squire,  and  again  so 
peaceable  were  the  people  that  this  profession  paid  no  bet- 
ter than  the  first.  The  beautiful  forests,  the  inspiring 
breezes,  made  our  new  settlement  so  near  a  Utopia  that  I 
sometimes  questioned  the  statement  made  by  my  mother : 

*'  You  need  not  expect  perfect  happiness ;  it  is  not  to  be  found  on 
e  arth." 


84  0^  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

Dr.  Snell's  first  patient  was  treated  in  my  house.  Mr. 
Lock,  one  of  the  gentlemen  for  whom  the  cabins  were 
built,  had  an  artist  friend  from  Philadelphia  visiting  him. 
The  artist,  Joseph  McLeod,  was  taken  very  sick,  and  Mr. 
Lock  brought  him  to  my  home,  where  I  nursed  him  back 
to  health. 

This  incident  proved  of  great  benefit  to  me.  The  mem- 
bers of  his  family  became  our  friends,  and  were  ready  in 
every  way  possible  to  show  their  gratitude.  Joseph  Mc- 
Leod, afterwards  known  as  Judge  McLeod,  was  a  devout 
Episcopalian,  and  when  he  learned  that  while  in  New 
York  I  had  been  a  member  of  the  Episcopal  church,  he 
sent  his  pastor  —  the  Rev.  Mr.  Chamberlain  —  up  to  see 
me.  We  united  our  efforts,  and  built  a  log  building  for  a 
church  of  our  own  denomination,  and  Mr.  McLeod  aided 
the  work  by  beautifully  painting  the  windows. 

When  the  scheme  for  the  new  settlement  had  taken 
definite  shape,  I  went,  although  without  money,  to  St. 
Paul  —  where,  through  the  courtesy  of  these  friends,  I  had 
unlimited  credit  —  to  select  axes,  grubbing-hoes,  cooking 
utensils,  and  a  tent,  for  our  camping  expedition.  On  the 
way  I  stopped  at  Crystal  Lake  to  water  the  oxen.  While 
they  were  resting  I  discovered  the  nest  of  a  huge  snap- 
ping-turtlc.  Knowing  that  the  thirty  eggs  in  the  sand 
would  hatch  by  means  of  the  heat  of  the  July  sun  without 
the  aid  of  the  mother  turtle,  I  thought  I  would  take  her 
to  the  hotel  with  me,  where  the  dollar  and  a  quarter  re- 
ceived for  her  would  settle  my  bill.  As  I  threw  her  into 
the  wagon  she  gave  a  snap,  and  I  thought  my  thumb  was 
gone.  It  proved  to  be  my  thumb-nail  only,  but  before  I 
got  it  wrapped  up,  my  friends  —  the  cattle  —  deserted  me, 
as  friends  usually  do  when  one  is  in  trouble.  I  have  never 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  85 

yet  been  able  to  decide  which  is  the  harder  on  piety 
—  the  vindictiveness  of  a  snapping-turtle,  or  the  perversity 
of  a  stubborn  yoke  of  oxen.  I  found  the  animals  peace- 
fully slumbering  in  the  lake,  and  had  to  wade  into  water 
up  to  my  neck  to  goad  them  out.  The  mud  of  these  banks 
was  the  blackest  I  have  ever  seen,  and  we  presented  a 
black  and  sorry  spectacle  when  at  last  we  started  on  our 
journey. 

When  we  reached  the  foot-bridge  half  a  mile  from  the 
Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  the  cattle  refused  to  go  upon  it. 
They  rushed  down  a  steep  bank  into  the  water,  and  before 
I  could  stop  them  had  nearly  entered  the  swift  eddies  of 
the  rapids.  Luckily,  the  water  was  only  up  to  my  arm- 
pits, and  by  stumbling  over  the  rocks  I  at  last  goaded 
them  up  a  steep  bank,  went  a  quarter  of  a  mile  around  to 
get  a  road,  and  got  back  to  the  ferry.  Five  or  six  men 
came  to  my  assistance,  but  again  the  cattle  went  through 
the  same  performance.  I  tried  again,  the  third  time,  and 
in  this  trial  got  them  on  a  barge  and  across  the  stream. 
I  was  sure  now  that  cattle  had  the  advantage  of  turtles  in 
fitting  a  man  for  the  world  which  the  foaming,  swirling 
waters  illustrated.  I  looked  with  a  softened  feeling  toward 
the  turtle,  the  wicked  cause  of  all  rny  trouble.  It  was  not 
there  !  It  had  taken  advantage  of  my  perplexities,  and 
escaped  along  with  my  temper,  near  the  Falls.  I  never 
saw  it  again.  But  night  came  on  before  I  reached  shelter, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  lie  down  in  my  wet  clothes,  without 
bed  or  food,  while  the  oxen  rested  or  ruminated  through- 
out the  night  in  the  surrounding  forest. 

In  the  morning  I  soon  reached  the  home  of  Mr.  Rob- 
erts, once  our  "Robinson  Crusoe,'*  where  I  ate  a  hearty 
meal,  arid  then  proceeded  on  to  Mr.  McLeod's  store,  made 


86  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

my  purchases,  and,  after  stopping  in  St.  Anthony  Ion 
enough  to  see  the  parties  interested  in  the  new  settlemen 
returned  home. 

This  new   settlement  was  to   be  in   Hennepin  county, 
about  eight  miles  from  my  home.      Charlie  Herman  and  I 
had  blazed  the  trees  to  the  location,  and  taken  a  survey  of 
the  surroundings.     An  immense  thicket  covered  the  spot, 
and  a  swamp  had  to  be  crossed  to  reach  it.     An  overland 
route  to  it  would  have  to  be   made  before  any  effective 
results  could  be  obtained.     By  crossing  the  lake  at  Mr, 
Hull's  ferry,  we  reached  a  ridge  of  land  along  which  w 
could  easily  travel  by  the  lake  for  some  distance  without 
getting   into   the  water.     The  view  from   here  was  most 
enchanting,  and  we  hardly  knew  whether  to  be  surprise 
or  amused,  when,  upon   reaching  the  point  where  we  le 
the  lake,  we  saw  some  writing  pasted  upon  a  tree,  whic 
read  as  follows : 

"TuKN,  TUKN,  ACCURSED  STI:AN<.KI;,  Tnix!" 

We  did  not  turn,  but  ate  our  luncheon,  and  traveled  on 
marking  out  our  road,  clearing  brush,  blazing  trees,  an 
making  the  best  of  the  discomforts  of  such  work,  under 
tierce  July  sun.      We  had  to  "  corduroy  "  (that  is,  cut  s<>m 
small  logs  and  lay  them  side  by  side  and  throw  brush  an 
dirt  over  them)  a  swamp,  and  then  a  mile  further  reaclu' 
the  edge  of  a  thicket.     As  leader  of  the  expedition  I  a 
signed   each   man   a  "length  "or  a  certain   part   to   clear, 
and  we  worked  assiduously  until  night. 

We  built  a  great  fire,  ate  our  suppers,  and  slept  soundl 
upon  the  ground.     In  the  morning  we  resumed  our  work, 
and  in  about  two  hours  finished   cutting  our  way  through 
the  thicket,  and  reached  a  fine  open  prairie.     As  there  wa 
no  water  here,  we   only  stayed   long  enough   to  eat   our 


• 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  87 

breakfast,  and  then  made  our  way  on  two  miles  further. 
Here  we  reached  a  small  lake,  and  the  place  selected  for 
our  destination.  Surveys  subsequently  located  this  spot  as 
section  13,  township  100,  range  24,  in  Hennepin  county. 
All  expressed  themselves  as  satisfied  with  the  location. 
It  was  a  truly  beautiful  spot.  The  clear  waters  of  the 
little  lake  abounded  in  fish  ;  the  timber  was  not  too  thick  ; 
the  growth  of  fine  walnut  trees  was  interspersed  with  wild 
apple-trees  laden  with  fruitage,  and  the  region  seemed  well 
calculated  to  afford  a  fine  pastoral  country.  All  agreed 
to  have  the  location  surveyed,  to  take  claims,  build  houses, 
and  make  for  themselves  homes  in  what  would  then  be 
the  second  interior  settlement  in  Hennepin  county,  Min- 
nesota. 

In  about  a  week,  I  secured  the  services  of  Surveyor 
Christmas,  of  St.  Anthony,  and  six  men  to  aid  in  the  work 
of  clearing  the  land  for  the  new  settlement.  The  men 
were  to  do  the  work  and  I  was  to  board  them.  Pat 
Murphy  was  to  take  the  oxen  along  to  haul  heavy  timber 
out  of  the  way.  A  day  was  agreed  upon  as  the  time  of 
starting,  and  a  place  appointed  for  a  rendezvous.  Every 
man  was  present,  and  we  began  work.  In  three  days  the 
road  had  been  surveyed  and  worked,  and  we  could  go 
with  a  team  from  Excelsior  to  the  site  of  our  new  village. 
A  little  later,  by  the  aid  of  my  oxen  in  hauling  the  timber, 
four  log  cabins  had  been  built. 

So  much  care  in  providing  provisions  and  other  neces- 
saries devolved  upon  me,  that  I  was  obliged  to  have  one 
of  the  men  do  the  cooking,  and  I  spent  most  of  my  time 
in  going  back  and  forth.  In  order  that  the  building  might 
go  rapidly  forward,  I  let  the  men  use  my  team  and  I 


88  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

tramped  the  distance  with  a  sack  upon  my  shoulders, 
containing  the  articles  needed. 

On  one  of  these  trips,  having  started  late  in  the  after- 
noon, it  grew  dark  and  I  lost  my  way.  The  horrors  of  a 
night  alone  in  a  dense  forest  in  an  unsettled  part  of  the 
country  were  before  me.  I  could  hear  the  wild-cat  scream 
and  the  wolf  howl,  but  for  fear  of  the  swamps  which  sur- 
rounded me  I  dared  not  go  forward.  I  had  an  axe  and 
matches  with  me,  and  built  a  fire.  Through  all  that  long 
night  I  gathered  brush  and  heaped  it  upon  my  fire.  I  did 
not  dare  to  sleep,  so  I  sang  loudly, "Row,  brothers,  row  !" 
and  wondered  if  the  stream  of  life  was  not  running  fast  to 
the  ocean  of  death  —  but  no  one  came  to  keep  me  com- 
pany. Perhaps  the  music  scared  stray  travelers  away. 
I  might,  if  seen,  have  been  taken  for  a  wild  man  of  the 
forest. 

At  last  the  most  welcome  dawn  I  ever  saw  gilded  the 
eastern  sky,  and,  finding  my  bearings,  I  trudged  joyfully 
homeward.  When,  late  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day, 
with  about  forty  pounds  of  provisions  in  the  sack  on  my 
back,  I  found  my  way  into  the  camp,  the  hungry  men 
made  the  woods  ring  with  hurrahs. 

Mr.  Langdon  attended  to  the  building  of  his  house,  but 
two  men  named  Foster  wanted  me  to  take  my  young 
oxen  and  go  up  to  Forest  Dale  and  assist  in  building  their 
cabins.  It  was  the  middle  of  September,  and  I  had  been 
having  a  brief  rest  at  my  home  near  Excelsior.  I  was  now 
a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  having  taken  out  my  papers, 
and  was  anxious  to  show  my  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
the  country  by  participating  a  little  in  political  affairs.  My 
home,  too,  needed  attention,  and  I  was  heartily  tired  of 
pioneering ;  so  I  hardly  relished  the  new  work. 


.i//.YA7->oyj   PIONEERING.  89 

Somewhat  reluctantly,  and  with  Pat's  assistance,  I  yoked 
up  the  oxen,  put  a  sack  of  provisions  around  the  yoke,  and 
started  on  foot  for  the  new  town-site.  We  went  to  the 
ferry,  but  Mr.  Hull  would  not  take  us  across  the  Narrows 
with  the  oxen.  The  water  was  about  three  rods  wide  and 
fifteen  feet  deep.  We  must  get  across  somehow,  or  else 
go  a  long  way  around. 

uPat,"  I  said,  uyou  jump  on  one  of  them  and  ride 
over." 

Pat  looked  at  me  dubiously,  and  then  laughed. 

"  No  sirree,"  he  said  ;  "  I  've  me  first  time  to  be  drowned, 
and  I  niver  inane  to  have  me  last." 

"But  you  won't  drown,"  I  said;  uyou  ride  to  guide 
them,  and  I  will  follow  in  the  boat  and  urge  them  over." 

"Urge  me  over,  you  mane,"  said  Pat.  "The  water's 
too  cold  for  bathin',  I'm  thinkin'." 

"But  the  water  is  warm,  Pat,"  I  urged;  "it  wouldn't 
hurt  you  to  fall  into  it.  We  would  pick  you  right  up. 
You  would  not  know  how  to  drive  them  forward  if  they 
balked.  Do  get  on  one  of  them." 

"By  your  1'ave,  no,"  said  Pat;  "I'm  no  swimmer,  and 
I'd  rather  not  risk  your  pickin'  me  up.  If  I  kape  on  the 
ferry-boat  there  '11  be  no  need  of  troublin'  ye  to  jump  in 
after  me.  Besides,  the  near  ox  don't  like  me  because  I'm 
an  Irishman  and  believe  in  shillalahs.  He  might  just 
hold  his  head  down,  and  then  trample  me  under  his  feet. 
Thank  ye,  Mr.  Brake;  I'll  be  ridin'  on  the  ferry,  if  ye 've 
no  objections." 

Clearly,  there  was  no  use  to  argue  with  Pat.  There  was 
no  alternative.  I  said  to  Mr.  Hull,  "You  come  alongside 
of  the  oxen  with  the  boat;  if  they  balk,  take  your  stick 
and  drive  them  over."  I  then  jumped  on  the  near  ox  and 


90 


ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


started.     They  went  down  into  the  water  until  only  thei 
noses  were  visible,  and  there  was  less  than  common  to 
seen  of  myself ;  but  I  rode  over  in   safety,  arid  the  ox< 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  journey.     When   we  landed  on   t] 
other  side,  Pat  looked   at  my  dripping  garments,  and  hi 
laughter  exploded.    It  did  not  make  me  any  better  humoi 

"It  wouldn't  have  hurt  you  to  have  ridden  over," 
said.  "It  was  cowardly  to  refuse.  A  boy  should  nev< 
be  afraid  of  a  wetting." 

"If  ye   plaze,  Mr.  Brake,"  said   Pat,  with  a  twinkle  ii 
his  eye,  "  I  rowed  over,  and  I  'd  rather  be  a  coward  for  tl 
distance  of  three  rods  than  a  dead  Irish  lad  all  the  rest 
the  journey  of  me  life." 

Pat's  philosophy  was  unanswerable ;  and  after  borro1 
ing  a  change  of  clothing  of  Mr.  Hull,  we  started  upon  tl 
margin  of  the  upper  lake.  The  oxen  could  not  travc 
upon  the  ridge,  and  we  were  obliged  to  keep  in  the  watc 
at  the  edge  of  the  lake.  It  was  from  two  to  three  fe< 
deep,  and  presented  a  waving  appearance  from  the  gi 
waves  surging  against  .the  shore.  Pat  and  I  had  anotln 
altercation.  Wouldn't  he  ride,  as  I  had  done  at  the  NJ 
rows? 

"Thank  ye,  no,"  said  Put  from  the  ridge;  "I  pref< 
walkiif,  and  I'm  very  comfortable  where  I  am." 

'•Well,  hand  me  a  stick,"  I  said,  "to  keep  them  froi 
getting  out  of  their  depth." 

He  did  so,  and  we  proceeded  up  the  lake  —  he  upon  tl 
dry  ridge,  and  I  astride  the  near  ox. 

About  half-way  up  the  margin,  the  cattle  became  uneasj 
Across  the  lake,  four  miles  off,  could  be  seen  a  beautifi 
table-land  covered  with  exquisite  verdure.  Whether 
not  the  cattle  decided  that  they  would  seek  this  oxeniai 


.W.V.VA'so/U   PIONEERING.  91 

paradise,  or  whether  the  distance  lent  an  enchantment  that 
bewitched  them,  I  do  not  know ;  but  one  thing  was  cer- 
tain, "forgetting  the  things  behind  them,"  in  spite  of 
winds  or  waves,  they  dashed  forward  toward  the  prize. 
Poor  Pat  stood  on  the  ridge  and  yelled  "Murder!  "  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  and  consoled  me  with  the  confidential 
statement : 

"You  're  sure  to  be  drowned,  Mr.  Brake.  You  '11  niver 
see  the  dry  land  any  more.  Och,  murder!  murder!" 

A  hundred  rods  from  the  shore,  in  water  fifteen  feet 
deep,  their  heads  still  turned  to  the  pastures  green,  the 
cattle  began  to  show  signs  of  exhaustion.  Pat,  frightened 
at  being  left  on  the  lonely  shore  alone,  was  screaming 
louder  and  louder,  when,  all  at  once,  as  if  disgusted  with 
his  yells,  the  brutes  wheeled  around  and  made  straight 
for  the  spot  where  he  stood.  Pat  was  so  disconcerted  at 
the  effect  of  the  sound  of  his  voice  that  he  called  out, 
"Holy  Mother  !"  and  came  near  falling  upon  his  head 
into  the  water  before  he  could  get  out  of  the  way.  The 
rest  of  the  distance  was  traversed  without  accident,  and 
around  the  supper-table  we  all  laughed  at  the  adventures 
of  the  day.  Pat's  equanimity  was  perfectly  restored.  The 
boys  rallied  him  on  his  heroism. 

"I've  always  remarked, "answered  Pat,  "that  when  I'm 
alive  at  bed-time,  I 'm  apt  to  be  stirrin' in  the  mornin'. 
As  I  was  tellin'  Mr.  Brake,  it 's  better  to  be  a  coward  eat- 
ing praties  at  supper  than  a  hero  with  fifteen  feet  o'  water 
atop  of  ye." 

Preparations  for  winter,  the  housing  of  vegetables,  cut- 
ting of  wood,  and  the  mowing  of  slough-grass  for  the 
cattle  kept  us  so  busy  that  we  did  not  notice,  one  day  in 
October,  that  the  atmosphere  was  darkened  by  a  huge 


92 


ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


black  cloud.     An  organized  band   that   night   descend* 
upon    Hennepin   county,  determined    upon    rule  or   ruii 
Each   remaining  vestige  of  verdure  met  destruction  as 
came  in  contact  with  the  voracious  mouth  of  one  of  the* 
depredators.      Grasshoppers,  millions  of  them,  swept  over 
the  land  ! 

As  we  were  not  of  that  nation  whose  citizens  nurture 
fondness  for  frogs,   grasshoppers   and   other  fashionabl 
fads,  we  realized   that  we  could  not  live  upon   these  ii 
sects  —  notwithstanding  their  fatness.     I  tried  to  save  tl 
cabbage  by  pouring  salt  all  over  and  around  the  head* 
The    delighted    grasshoppers    so   relished   the   vegetable 
with   the   addition   of  salt,   that  in   the   morning  I   coul 
hardly  find  the  stump  of  a  stalk.     I  let  them  finish  the 
garden  without  salt.      Only  a  comparatively  small  portion 
of  the  land  was  cleared  up,  and  the  grasshoppers  devoured 
almost  our  all. 

I  now  traded  my  oxen  off  in  order  that  I  might  hai 
only  my  pony  and  cow  to  winter.  A  new  town,  nam< 
Smith  Town,  was  laid  out  on  a  beautiful  location  aboi 
four  miles  from  Excelsior,  and  I  helped  to  survey  the  lot 
and  during  the  winter  put  up  ice  for  the  new  famili< 
The  winter  was  very  cold,  and  the  ice  was  four  feet 
thickness.  The  sleighing  was  tine,  and  sleigh-bells  jingh 
merrily  during  all  the  winter. 

In  the  spring,  when  the  snow  melted,  a  melanchol 
.sight  met  our  eyes.  The  grasshoppers,  the  previous  ai 
tunm,  had  deposited  millions  of  eggs  in  the  soil,  and  tl 
outlook  for  raising  a  crop  was  di'pivssingly  unpromising 

About  this  time,  Mr.  (iideon  offered    me  a  tine  team 
horses  and  a  carriage  for  five  hundred  dollars.      Believii 
that   the  grasshoppers  would   for  some   time  prevent 


MINNESOTA    I'TONEERING.  93 

profit  from  farming,  I  offered  him  a  hundred  acres  of 
land  for  the  team  (a  horse  and  a  mare)  and  the  carriage. 
He  accepted,  and  I  deeded  him  one  hundred  acres  of 
Hennepin  county  land.  I  had  a  good  lumber-wagon,  and 
I  traded  the  carriage  for  a  carryall,  and  was  now  prepared 
for  teaming.  There  was  no  one  in  Excelsior  to  do  this 
kind  of  work,  and  I  regretted  much  that  the  proving  up 
on  my  Forest  Dale  land,  and  enforced  attendance  upon  a 
jury  at  Minneapolis,  kept  me  away  from  home  until  the 
first  of  May.  County  funds  were  then  very  low,  and  I 
only  received  half  pay  for  my  services  as  juror. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  May  2, 1  harnessed  my  untried 
team,  and  with  Pat  Murphy  started  for  Forest  Dale  with 
five  hundred  feet  of  lumber.  In  order  to  avoid  going 
four  miles  around,  I  again  decided  to  try  the  Narrows. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  that  lumber ?"  asked  Mr. 
Hull,  the  ferryman  ;  "I  can't  ferry  all  of  that  over." 

"  I  do  not  intend  that  you  shall,"  I  answered. 

"  Can  your  horses  swim  ?  " 

"I  think  that  they  will  be  glad  to  swim  when  they  get 
into  the  deep  water,"  I  replied. 

uCan  you  swim  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  swam  across  the  Serpentine  and  back,  in  the  city  of 
London,"  I  answered. 

"Pat  can  take  the  ferry-boat  over,"  said  Mr.  Hull. 

"He  can  ride  one  of  the  horses,"  I  replied. 

"No,  thank  you,"  answered  Pat.  UI  think  if  Mr.  Hull 
don't  object,  I  'd  as  soon  stay  by  the  boat." 

I  now  prepared  to  enter  the  stream,  and  Pat  was  so 
frightened  that  he  stood  in  front  of  the  team,  urging  me 
to  go  around  by  the  other  road. 

"Stand  aside  !  "  I  commanded. 


94  0^  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

Pat  obeyed,  and  I  touched  "Charley,"  the  noble  horse, 
with  the  whip,  and  a  few  moments  later  we  were  climbing 
the  steep  bank  on  the  opposite  side.     Pat  swung  his  caj 
and  followed.     We  had  no  trouble  with  the  horses  as  witl 
the   oxen,   and  were   congratulating   ourselves   upon   thit 
fact  when  we  reached   the  tree   once   bearing  the  curious 
legend,   "Turn,   turn,  accursed    stranger,    turn!"     I 
looking  at  the   tree   and  wondering  what  freak  of  huinai 
nature   had  posted   up   this  notice,  when   the  horses   su< 
denly  began  to  sink,  and  to  my  horror  kept  going  dowi 
into  what  must  have  been  a  bed  of  quicksand  and  mud. 
"Pat!  "  I  shouted,  "do  not  come  near  me!  " 
The  boy  had  been  running  along  the  ridge,  and  he  cam< 
now  to  my  aid,  surprised    and   frightened ;   but   I   order 
him  away.     I  did  not  wish   him  to   be  in   any  danger  f< 
my  sake.     Hastily  jumping  down  from  the  wagon,  up 
my  waist  in  mud  and  water,  I  loosened  the  horses.     Aft( 
hours,  it  seemed  to  me,  I  succeeded  in  getting  the  hoi 
extricated,  and  Pat  tied  them  up  while  I  sat  down  to  rest 
While  Pat  ate  his  dinner,  I  meditated  on  the  pleasant  tasl 
before  me  of  carrying  the   lumber  from  the  wagon,  am 
then  getting  it  out ;   of  the  possible  danger  of  the  treachei 
ous  mud   and   quicksand,  and   the   uncertainty   of  piom 
life.     After  much  exertion  I  succeeded  in   unchaining  th 
lumber  and   reaching  it  out  to  Pat,  who  received   and 
ried  it  to  dry  land. 

"  Sure,  Mr.  Brake,  are  you  going  to  leave  the  wagon  ' 
asked  Pat. 

"  Not  J,"  I  said.      "Out  it  comes,  if  it  takes  a  \\i-rk." 
"I  'in  thinkinY'  said  Pat,  -it  '11  be  rather  lonesome  loikc 
for  ye.     Of  course  ye  11  not  expect  me  to  kape  compan; 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING,  95 

wid  a  single  individual  for  a  whole  wake  wid  scant  livin' 
for  a  single  breakfast.'1 

Morning  dawned  after  a  long  and  weary  night.  The 
horses  were  uneasy,  and  the  attentions  of  bloodthirsty 
mosquitoes  did  not  add  to  the  general  comfort.  I  began  at 
once  to  tie  the  ropes  and  chains  together,  and  fasten  them 
to  the  tongue  of  the  wagon.  In  a  few  moments,  with  the 
aid  of  the  horses,  the  wagon  came  out  of  the  mud  and  water 
and  stood  on  dry  land.  The  dark  night,  the  wild  animals 
that  had  made  the  hours  hideous,  our  wet  garments  and 
unsatisfied  hunger,  were  forgotten.  My  valuable  team, 
wagon  and  lumber  were  saved.  We  were  past  the  quick- 
sand and  water,  and  our  way  lay  clear  before  us. 

Once  home  again  in  safety,  and  my  wife's  anxiety  at 
rest,  I  decided  to  try  to  earn  some  money  with  my  team 
by  running  a  hack  from  Excelsior  to  St.  Paul.  The  depre- 
dations by  grasshoppers  rendered  it  necessary  that  I  seek 
some  means  of  subsistence. 

It  was  now  midsummer,  and  both  myself  and  Charles 
Galpin,  who  also  carried  passengers,  did  a  thriving  busi- 
ness. The  canoes  obtained  from  the  Indians  were  now 
in  constant  demand.  Many  invalids  flocked  to  the  new 
watering-places,  Excelsior  and  Forest  Dale,  where,  in  the 
healthful  pursuits  of  rowing  and  fishing,  health  came  to 
them. 

One  of  my  passengers,  a  Mr.  Lithgow,  stayed  in  our 
neighborhood,  secured  a  claim,  and  built  him  a  cabin.  He 
was  a  wealthy  gentleman,  and  soon  rigged  up  a  sail-boat 
and  spent  much  time  upon  the  lake.  One  day,  while  thus 
occupied,  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  overturned  the  boat,  and 
Mr.  Lithgow  was  drowned.  This,  our  first  tragedy,  caused 
a  gloom  to  settle  over  the  entire  community. 


96  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

Another  passenger  was  a  Congregational  minister  named 
Charles  B.  Sheldon.  He  was  a .  good  and  able  man,  and 
remained  with  us  and  preached  for  us.  He  had  a  large 
family  and  his  salary  was  small,  but  he  managed  by  econ- 
omy to  make  a  living  in  the  new  country. 

My  wife  accompanied  me  on  one  of  these  trips  from  St. 
Anthony,  and  a  gentleman  named  Maxwell  rode  home 
with  us.  As  we  rode  along,  Mr.  Maxwell  said  : 

"Mr.  Brake,  if  you  will  stop  at  Purgatory,  I  will  furnish 
you  with  a  load  worth  more  than  a  thousand  dollars." 

"Purgatory  must  be  a  station  from  which  passengers 
would  like  to  travel  even  by  a  hack.  I'll  stop,"  I  replied. 

I  knew  that  the  place  had  been  so  nicknamed  on  ac- 
count of  the  mud-hole  in  the  road.  Bridges  and  culverts 
being  then  unknown,  we  gave  the  rough  places  cheerful 
and  expressive  names.  We  reached  the  spot,  and  to  our 
surprise  were  presented  with  the  prettiest  child  I  have 
ever  seen.  The  family  was  poor,  and  the  parents  had 
several  children.  As  our  children  had  all  died  in  infancy, 
believing  we  would  be  able  to  support  little  seven-year-old 
Lizzie  better  than  they,  she  was  offered  to  us  as  a  gift. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  express  our  gratitude.  A  thou- 
sand dollars,  indeed  !  She  seemed  of  value  above  calcula- 
tion. And  to  this  day  the  child,  whose  father  died  soon 
after,  has  been  the  crowning  blessing  of  my  life.  Our 
hearts  have  been  cemented  in  a  bond  of  love  that  shall 
never  be  broken  on  this  earth,  nor  yet  in  the  world  to 
come. 

For  some  time  after  this,  as  though  fortune  had  filled 
my  cup  sufficiently  full,  I  did  very  little.  I  carried  a 
good  many  people,  but  they  were  mostly  prospective 
settlers  whom  I  charged  nothing.  Interested  in  the  town, 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  97 

I  hoped  to  reap  a  future  reward  when  my  passengers 
should  have  settled  in  Excelsior.  Again,  I  carried  goods 
free  to  our  village  of  Forest  Dale,  and  this  took  up  much 
time.  My  boy,  Pat  Murphy,  and  my  chopper,  Charlie 
Herman,  were  doing  little  work,  and,  with  the  fast-approach- 
ing winter  at  hand,  I  resolved  to  remain  at  home  a  short 
time,  not  only  to  look  after  wood  and  feed,  but  to  enjoy 
the  society  of  my  dear  little  daughter  and  her  mother. 

My  time  was  so  full  that  my  pocket  was  empty  before 
I  knew  it.  As  we  kept  open  house  to  sojourners  in  our 
wilderness,  we  could  not  afford  to  be  idle,  so  I  started  on 
a  trip  to  St.  Anthony,  but  found  at  Excelsior  that  my 
friendly  competitor,  being  more  of  a  smart  Yankee  than 
I,  had  picked  up  all  of  the  trade.  There  was  a  half-way 
house  between  Excelsior  and  St.  Paul,  kept  by  a  man  who 
managed  his  brother  while  his  brother  managed  the  house. 
Very  appropriately  his  name  was  Self.  Two  passengers 
paid  the  bill  at  Mr.  Self's  and  I  went  on  to  St.  Paul. 
After  waiting  a  full  hour,  I  was  turning  away  in  disgust 
when  I  was  accosted  by  a  stout  German. 

"So,  Mr.  Hackdriver,  do  you  want  a  yob?  " 

Did  I!  uYes,"  I  exclaimed,  "here  I  am  for  that 
purpose." 

"I  lif  near  Buffalo  Lake,  up  the  country,"  he  said. 

"I  know  the  lake,"  I  replied.  "It  is  twenty-five  miles 
away." 

"I  haf  some  few  goods  already,"  he  said,  UI  do  want 
you  to  haul." 

"  How  much  weight  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Fife  barrel  of  flour,  two  sack  of  salt,  fife  hundred 
weight  other  goods  —  about  von  ton." 

"  Do  you  want  to  ride  ?  "  I  asked. 


98  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

"Nix,"  he  answered,  "I  vos  big  enough  to  walk,  und 
to  help  roll  der  wheels  oop  bad  places,  eh  !  " 

"  What  are  you  willing  to  pay  ?     It  is  a  hard  trip." 

"  Eh  !"  He  took  a  ten-dollar  gold  piece  from  his  pocket 
and  held  it  up ;  "I  gifs  you  this,  und  ten  pound  sausage." 

The  gold  looked  tempting.  My  purse  needed  replen- 
ishing. I  was  sure  that  my  wife  and  Lizzie  would  enjoy 
the  sausag:.  I  accepted  his  offer. 

It  was  a  tiresome  journey,  but  a  little  after  dark  we 
reached  the  place.  I  was  so  tired  that  I  retired  as  soon 
as  supper  was  eaten.  When  I  arose  in  the  morning  I 
found  myself  in  a  commodious  subterranean  habitation, 
the  front  part  of  which  was  a  small  store,  where,  at  an  im- 
mense increase  in  price  upon  the  cost,  the  goods  I  had 
carried  would  be  retailed  to  customers.  I  wondered  where 
the  latter  were  to  come  from,  for  there  was  not  a  dwelling 
within  miles  of  my  German  host.  Neighbors,  however, 
were  not  lacking,  for  my  nostrils  informed  me  that  the 
relatives  of  the  source  of  the  sausages  promised  me  were 
very  near  at  hand. 

Breakfast  was  soon  ready.  Brown  bread,  home-made 
and  baked  in  a  clay  oven,  coffee  and  fresh  sausages  soon 
made  me  forget  the  proximity  of  the  pig-sty. 

"I  do  put  up  some  hog  meat,  too,  already  for  your 
frau,"  the  German  lady  said  as  she  packed  the  sausage. 

I  inquired  the  road  to  Excelsior.  My  German  friend 
replied : 

"If  you  do  go  the  long  road  it  will  be  thirty  mile;  if 
you  do  go  through,  you  safe  fife  mile.  There  is  only  one 
bad  mud-hole;  you  can  go  through  him  easy  already." 

Such  clear  instruction  was  not  to  be  disregarded.  I  de- 
cided to  "go  through  him."  Near  the  mud-hole  named 


MINNESOTA    PIONEERING.  99 

lived  a  settler.  I  asked  him  if  he  thought  I  could  cross 
the  place. 

"Certainly,"  he  said.     "It's  not  a  bad  place." 

I  drove  in  accordingly,  and  in  about  the  middle  of  the 
mess,  the  horses  sank  deeply  in  the  mud. 

"Come  and  help  me,"  I  cried  ;  "Halloa  !   Halloa  !" 

The  rare  spectacle  of  a  Minnesota  pioneer  refusing  aid 
to  another  now  presented  itself.  To  my  surprise  he  came 
and  laughed  at  my  predicament. 

"  Ten  dollars  would  be  a  small  sum,  I  reckon,  stranger, 
to  you.  I  make  my  livin'  by  this  mud-hole.  What  '11  you 
pay  to  get  out?  " 

"  You  are  an  impostor  !"  I  yelled. 

"You'd  better  shoot  them  horses,"  he  answered; 
"  they  're  as  good  as  dead  now.  I  '11  bring  my  oxen  then 
and  help  you  out.  Hand  over  your  X." 

I  jerked  up  my  rifle. 

"If  I  shoot  anything,  it  will  be  you,  you  varmint  !"  I 
shouted. 

He  took  me  at  my  word,  and  vanished.  I  waded  in, 
and  by  almost  superhuman  efforts  loosened  and  backed 
the  horses  out  upon  dry  land.  Fastening  a  chain  in  the 
pin-hole  and  attaching  it  to  the  horses,  they  pulled  the 
wagon  out  backward.  I  now  patiently  retraced  my  steps, 
and  sadly  took  rny  way  homeward  by  the  "thirty-mile" 
road.  As  I  had  to  stay  all  night  at  the  Minnetonka  mills, 
four  days  and  nights  had  elapsed  from  the  time  of  my 
departure  when  I  reached  home.  My  ten  dollars  in  gold, 
and  the  fresh  meat,  hardly  recompensed  me  for  the  anxiety 
of  my  wife,  and  the  jaded  condition  of  the  team.  Such 
were  the  experiences  of  hack-drivers  in  those  early  times. 

My  wife  was  taken  very  sick  about  this  time,  and   as 


100  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

usual  I  nursed  her  through  her  illness.  All  through  the 
beautiful  month  of  October,  while  Nature  was  donning 
her  most  gorgeous  robes,  and  hundreds  of  visitors  were 
enjoying  the  rare  lake  scenery,  my  wife  lay  at  death's 
door.  When  she  recovered  she  was  so  changed  that  an 
acquaintance  would  not  have  known  her.  She  was 
emaciated  to  a  skeleton,  and  her  magnificent  raven  hair 
had  fallen  off.  It  was  a  long  time  before  she  recovered 
her  usual  health. 

That  fall  our  house  was  full  of  sufferers  from  sickness 
and  hard  times.  A  stout  German  whom  I  cured  of  eczema 
chopped  wood  for  me  all  winter,  and  an  ex-Catholic  priest 
who  had  been  driven  away  by  Indians  from  a  church  he 
was  building,  put  me  up  a  house.  An  Englishman  who 
lived  in  a  cave  changed  it  for  our  home,  and  I  also  gave 
him  work.  I  certainly  lost  nothing  through  kindness  to 
these  people,  for  they  did  faithful  work,  even  to  one  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott's  heroines,  who  under  the  name  of  Lobs- 
dale  came  to  us  for  work  at  the  carpenter  business.  Per- 
haps the  priest  may  have  been  her  friend ;  at  any  rate,  her 
identity  was  so  well  concealed  by  her  male  attire  that  she 
had  been  gone  some  time  before  we  learned  who  she  was. 

In  the  fall  of  1856,  money  seemed  to  abound  in  and 
around  Excelsior.  The  holders  of  this  "wild-cat"  cur- 
rency bought  up  thousands  of  acres  of  hind,  to  the  ruin 
of  the  original  claimants.  But,  perhaps  in  no  year  was 
Christmas  more  royally  observed  by  the  pioneers  of  Hen- 
nepin  county  than  in  1856.  Our  own  plum-pudding  was 
as  enjoyable  as  its  predecessors.  We  still  had  our  claim, 
our  health,  the  blessing  of  appreciative  friends,  and  the 
crisis  even  then  just  upon  the  horizon  had  not  troubled  us. 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  101 

We  ate  our  Christmas  dinner  with  grateful  hearts,  and  re- 
joiced in  our  surroundings. 

In  January,  a  gentleman  named  Kussell  living  up  the 
lake  came  and  asked  me  to  haul  him  some  lumber. 

"Is  the  ice  safe  ?"  I  asked. 

"Two  feet  thick,"  he  replied.  "I  rode  down  here  on 
a  horse.  The  snow  is  not  deep  and  it  is  not  drifted.  I 
need  the  lumber  badly,  and  will  pay  you  well  for  your 
work." 

We  now  had  a  saw-mill  at  Excelsior.  The  order  was 
upon  the  miller,  Mr.  Wilcox,  for  five  hundred  feet  of  lum- 
ber. On  a  bright,  cold  morning,  I  started  to  take  the 
lumber  to  its  destination.  Unwilling  to  risk  the  strength 
of  my  horses,  I  borrowed  a  yoke  of  stout  oxen,  went  to 
Excelsior  and  loaded  the  lumber,  and  went  overland  to 
the  Narrows  between  the  two  lakes.  The  miller  called 
after  me  as  I  drove  away  from  the  mill  : 

"Take  a  shovel  along,  and  wrap  up;  you  can't  fool 
with  forty  degrees  below  zero." 

The  ice  by  this  time  was  three  feet  thick;  the  only  dan- 
ger I  could  fear  in  crossing  the  lake  was  from  the  snow, 
which  the  icy  wind  was  heaping  into  hills  and  scooping 
into  hollows.  It  was  worse  at  the  edge.  It  took  me  an 
hour  to  clear  a  road  wide  enough  for  the  sled.  The 
smaller  drifts  in  the  way  impeded  my  progress  much,  but 
at  last  the  six  miles  were  traversed,  the  lumber  carried  up 
the  steep  bank,  and  my  oxen  turned  toward  home. 

It  was  sunset  by  this  time,  and  night,  with  no  moon, 
and  only  the  snow  and  stars  to  lighten  the  darkness,  soon 
fell  around  me.  Wolves  followed  me  so  closely  that  I 
often  took  a  stake  from  the  sled  and  drove  them  back.  Al- 
though I  moved  slowly  and  kept  a  constant  lookout  for  my 


102  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

pathway  so  lately  traveled,  I  soon  found  that  I  had  missed 
my  way,  and  knew  not  where  I  was.  The  anxiety  of  my 
family,  the  certainty  of  death  from  cold,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  wolves,  the  drifts  ahead  of  me,  and  my  desire  to  re- 
turn the  cattle  safely,  combined  to  make  me  afraid  to  ad- 
vance into  unseen  danger.  But  the  peril  was  even  worse 
if  I  stood  still  in  the  darkness,  so  I  journeyed  on,  my  feet 
frozen  and  my  limbs  almost  numb  with  cold.  I  kept  con- 
stantly kicking  my  feet  against  the  sled,  but  as  my  faculties 
became  deadened  I  found  it  difficult  to  keep  up  the  effort. 
Bracing  myself,  however,  I  moved  forward,  and  at  last 
saw  a  faint  light  in  the  distance.  That  light  saved  my 
life.  It  proved  to  be  from  without  the  home  of  a  Miss 
Johnson,  who  lived  alone  save  for  a  small  boy,  and  with 
whom  I  was  well  acquainted.  Her  house,  before  which  a 
fire  had  been  lighted  to  scare  away  wolves,  was  in  an  ex- 
actly opposite  direction  from  my  home.  With  difficulty  I 
got  the  cattle  up  a  steep  bank,  tied  them  to  the  sled,  and 
went  into  the  house. 

Miss  Johnson  at  once  brought  me  some  hot  tea,  and 
then  prepared  my  supper.  With  tepid  water  I  removed 
the  bandages  from  my  frozen  feet,  and  after  dressing  them 
retired  to  the  bed  kindly  prepared  for  me  by  the  lady.  In 
the  morning  I  hobbled  out,  yoked  up  my  oxen  and  started 
home.  I  met  my  hired  man  in  a  short  time,  lie  had 
found  my  dog,  which  had  frozen  to  death,  and  had  little 
hope  of  finding  me  alive  until  I  came  in  sight. 

The  pain  from  my  frozen  feet  was  almost  unsupportable. 
It  was  a  month  before  I  could  resume  work,  and  I  looked 
about  me  for  something  that  would  help  increase  the  small 
amount  of  money  we  had  in  reserve. 

A  Mr.  Stevens   built   a   small     movable    house,   and   we 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  103 

moved  it  from  point  to  point  on  the  lake.  He  would  then 
cut  a  small  hole  in  the  ice  within  the  room,  and  build  a 
little  fire.  The  fish,  attracted  by  the  light,  would  come  to 
the  surface,  and  he  would  spear  them.  I  made  a  great 
box  and  lined  it  with  zinc.  In  this,  upon  my  recovery,  I 
carried  large  quantities  of  fish  to  St.  Anthony,  now  my 
terminal  point,  where  I  sold  them  at  the  hotel.  We  did  a 
paying  business  during  the  rest  of  the  winter,  Mr.  Stevens 
spearing  them  as  fast  as  I  could  sell  them.  Of  course  I 
carried  other  passengers  besides  the  dead  fish,  and  hauled 
many  goods  for  the  merchants  at  Excelsior. 

On  one  of  these  trips,  I  stopped  at  Mr.  Self's  refresh- 
ment house,  and  he  took  me  out  to  a  fine  open  prairie  to 
see  one  of  the  typical  sights  of  civilization  in  its  early  con- 
tact with  Indians.  A  tribe  of  these  wild  men  had  camped 
upon  the  prairie,  and  some  vile  miscreants,  knowing  the 
effect  of  liquor  upon  these  children  of  Nature,  hauled  two 
barrels  of  whisky  out  upon  the  prairie  and  sold  it  to 
them.  Once  in  possession  of  all  of  the  money  the  Indians 
had,  the  whisky-sellers  decamped  and  were  soon  out  of 
the  reach  of  the  law.  The  scene  on  this,  the  following 
day,  was  terrible  in  the  extreme.  Old  blankets,  rags, 
butts  of  muskets,  covered  the  ground.  A  large  spot  was 
red  with  human  blood,  and  pieces  of  hoops  and  staves 
were  covered  with  blood  and  human  flesh.  Squaws  nearly 
nude,  children,  old  men,  and  wounded  and  disabled  (some 
of  them  scalped)  warriors  groaned  and  wept  at  being  left 
to  care  for  each  other  or  die.  The  poor  drunken  wretches 
had  drank  the  vile,  poisonous  stuff  until  they  were  infu- 
riated, and  then  fought  each  other  until  dead,  disabled,  or 
sober  ;  after  which,  those  who  could  travel  had  gone  off, 
and  left  their  helpless  friends  to  their  fate. 


104  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

After  such  a  scene,  and  the  danger  that  would  have 
resulted  to  a  white  man  if  alone  he  had  inet  the  fleeing 
braves,  home  and  the  society  of  my  wife  and  dear  little 
girl  seemed  doubly  precious.  The  Sabbath  service  and 
Reverend  Charles  B.  Sheldon's  able  sermon  had  more  of  a 
tranquilizing  effect  upon  my  mind  than*  those  of  any  pre- 
vious occasion. 

But  however  sweet  home  might  be,  our  daily  bread  had 
to  be  earned. 

On  the  next  trip,  on  my  return,  the  ice  on  the  lake  be- 
gan to  break  up  —  and  such  a  tearing,  rending,  roaring, 
crackling  sound  I  have  never  heard.  It  was  like  the  voice 
of  many  thunders.  As  it  was  after  dark,  I  dismounted 
from  my  seat  and  examined  the  ice.  It  was  not  yet  broken, 
but  the  subterranean  noises,  the  constant  vibration,  warned 
me  that  I  might  expect  a  rent  at  any  time.  Sure  enough, 
a  little  farther  on  the  ice  suddenly  shook,  yawned,  and 
with  a  terrible  explosion  a  chasm  was  formed  directly  un- 
der the  horses'  feet.  The  cold  waters  bubbled  up  rapidly, 
and  the  animals  were  almost  unmanageable.  Fortunately. 
I  got  them  across  the  narrow  gulf,  and  at  a  rate  of  speed 
hardly  attained  by  modern  turf  trotters  my  horses  spun 
over  the  creaking,  swaying  ice  to  Brake's  Landing,  where 
my  hired  man,  his  teeth  chattering  with  fear  and  cold, 
was  waiting  for  me. 

The  next  day  I  went  up  to  Forest  Dale  to  see  about  my 
land.  Not  wishing  to  risk  the  lake  by  night,  upon  return- 
ing, I  sent  Pat  JMurphy,  who  had  accompanied  me,  home 
with  a  friend,  Mr.  Langdon  ;  and  my  neighbor,  Mr.  Latter- 
ner,  a  tailor,  rode  with  me  in  the  sled.  We  kept  as  near 
the  shore  as  possible,  and  in  order  to  do  so  rounded  the 
points  of  land  jutting  out  into  the  water.  Passing  around 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  105 

one  of  these,  we  came  near  a  spring,  and  the  mare  suddenly 
sank  to  her  collar  in  water.  I  soon  drew  my  noble  horse 
"Charley"  on  safe  ice,  but  the  water  froze  upon  me  as 
fast  as  I  stepped  out  of  it.  I  was  very  cold.  I  tried  to 
get  the  mare  out,  but  finding  that  I  could  not,  and  hearing 
the  sound  of  axes,  I  left  her  turning  around  in  the  hole, 
and  mounting  "Charley,"  rode  off  toward  the  noise  of  the 
logging-camp.  Looking  back,  I  could  see  her  head  mov- 
ing in  her  attempts  to  get  out.  The  two  miles  to  the 
camp  seemed  a  long  distance,  but  at  last  the  three  men, 
with  cattle  and  chains,  were  on  their  way  toward  my  sled, 
and  a  few  minutes  later,  to  my  great  joy,  I  saw  shining  in 
the  air  the  bright  shoes  of  the  mare  as  she  plunged  upon 
the  ice. 

There  was  a  house  in  the  woods,  and  Mr.  Latterner  had 
gone  there  and  changed  his  foot-gear  while  we  were  extri- 
cating the  mare.  My  poor  horses,  covered  with  ice  and 
trembling  with  cold,  were  as  presentable  as  I  was  in  my 
glistening  array,  when  Mr.  Latterner,  warm  and  dry,  re- 
joined us.  I  had  heard  that  it  takes  nine  tailors  to  make 
a  man.  I  now  believed  the  story. 

When  I  reached  home,  Pat  was  blubbering.  He  had 
been  there  a  long  time ;  it  was  past  midnight,  and  all  were 
wondering  what  had  become  of  Mr.  Latterner  and  myself. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Pat  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"Sure,"  said  Pat,  "I  was  so  cold  and  tired.  I  only 
wanted  to  rest  a  bit  by  the  way,  and  Mister  Langdon 
kicked  and  pounded  me  into  a  run.  I  'd  never  be  kickin' 
a  crayther  that  was  smaller  than  meself.  You,  Mister 
Brake,  are  not  so  big  as  I  be,  but  never  a  toime  did  I 
kick  and  pound  ye." 


106  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

Mr.  Langdon  laughed.     uPat  tells  the  truth,"  he  said 
"1  had  to  scare  him  into  a  run  with  a  stick,  and  then  mak< 
him  believe  I  was  after  him  all  the  way  home,  to  keep  hii 
from  going  to  sleep  and  freezing  to  death." 

"I  reckon,"  said  Pat,  reflectively,  "that  half  a  skin  is 
better  than  none.  If  it 's  dead  on  the  road  I  was  about 
to  be,  and  I  Ve  escaped  with  me  loife,  I  '11  hold  no  spite 
at  Mister  Langdon.  Only  sometoirne  I  '11  return  the  com- 
pliment, and  save  him  from  freezin'  in  as  gallant  a  man- 
ner as  he  saved  me.  Then  I  '11  feel  sure  enough  loike  a 
hero." 

My  wife  clung  to  me  when  I  had  told  my  story,  weep- 
ing bitterly  at  the  danger  through  which  Pat  and  I  had 
passed.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  I  ate  heartier  than 
ever  before,  she  persisted  in  looking  upon  me  as  though  I 
had  been  dead  and  was  alive  again,  and  as  though  she 
was  sure  it  was  myself  and  not  the  mare  that  had  so  nar- 
rowly escaped  death. 

"How  long  must  I  endure  these  fears  for  your  safety  ( 
When  will  these  uncertainties,  anxieties  and  forebodings 
cease  ?     It  is  hastening  me  into  insanity.     Do  let  us  leav< 
this  terrible  lake  country,  and  put  an  end  to  this  intermi- 
nable trouble  and  worry." 

I  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  the  long-pent  lava  of  emotioi 
had  burst  forth  in  a  very  torrent  of  words,  and  she  woul< 
not  be  soothed. 

"The  crisis  so  long  talked  about  and  dreaded  is  here,' 
she  cried.     "I  can  see  that  you   are  making  no  money. 
Your  thousands  brought  from  New  York  are  almost  gone, 
your  five-hundred-dollar  team  nearly  worthless.    Your  lif( 
is  in  constant  jeopardy,  and   I  am  a  slave,  mentally  an< 
physically,  to  this  wretched  life.     Take  me  out  of   this 


PIONEERING.  107 

place.  I  cannot  stand  this  life  any  longer.  Do,  please 
do,  say  it  shall  be  ended  !  " 

I  was  overcome  by  the  vehemence  of  Charlotte's  emo- 
tion, and  acquiesced  in  her  wishes. 

"This  year  shall  wind  up  my  affairs  in  Minnesota  Terri- 
tory," I  answered.  uMy  dear,  you  shall  have  your  way." 

And  so,  as  is  frequently  the  case  with  other  men,  my 
wife  changed  the  whole  tenor  of  rny  future  life.  After 
mature  deliberation,  my  wife  consented  to  remain  until 
the  fall  of  1858,  and  I  set  to  work  to  complete  the  log- 
ging, lumber,  and  other  contracts  I  had  on  hand,  prepara- 
tory to  removing  from  the  Territory. 

By  summer,  the  crisis,  as  my  wife  had  stated,  had 
reached  us.  Business  was  at  a  standstill.  Forest  Dale 
was  not  improving.  Excelsior  was  dead  to  improvement. 
A  quarter-section  of  land  would  not  have  brought  fifty 
dollars.  The  wild-cat  money  was  not  fit  for  pipe-lighters, 
and  I  had  enough  of  the  stuff  to  make  me  lose  heavily.  I 
turned  my  attention  to  putting  in  my  small  crop,  and  my 
resolve  to  please  my  wife,  and  leave  the  Territory,  was 
daily  strengthened  by  her  entreaties. 

Lizzie  was  now  a  thriving,  cheerful  little  girl,  eight 
years  of  age.  We  sent  her  to  the  Excelsior  school,  where 
she  learned  rapidly.  She  came  running  to  meet  me  al- 
ways upon  my  return,  and  her  presence  in  these  trying 
times  was  a  constant  inspiration.  I  resolved  that  we 
should  have  a  little  pleasure  during  the  rest  of  our  stay 
in  Hennepin  county ;  so  I  rigged  up  a  row-boat,  and  we 
all  went  each  evening  with  rod  and  reel  upon  the  lake. 
We  caught  more  fish  than  we  could  use.  We  made  us  a 
garden,  and,  despite  the  crisis,  we  planted  and  enjoyed 
not  only  vegetables,  but  flowers.  I  raised  a  crop,  and  we 


108  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


were  all  happy  together,  for  a  short  time  at  least,  in  t 
new  Territory. 

During  the  summer,  I  started  to  take  a  Mr.  Pay  son  to 
his  claim.     The  distance  being  about  forty  miles,  and  the 
mud  in  places  to  the  knees  of  the  single  horse  we  drove, 
it  took  a  week  for  the  trip.     We  slept  in  a  clayey  swamp 
one  night ;  in  a  great  forest  the  next.     The  horrors  of  the 
last  night  were  beyond  comparison  with  Indians,  wolves, 
ice,  or  cold.     My  mother's  prophecy  concerning  the  trunks 
of  mosquitoes  seemed  verified.     I  climbed  a  tree  and  hi 
in  the  branches,  but  my  companion  could  not  climb,  a 
his  moans  and  cries  would  have  made  a  passer-by  belie 
he  was  being  murdered.     In  the  morning  we  were  cover 
with  our  own  blood.    Those  mosquitoes  must  indeed  hav 
been  thirsty   for   gore.     We   thought    it    likely   that    the 
ghosts  of  departed   Indians  were  resenting  our  intrusion 
upon  their  domain,  and  if  so,  they  certainly  early  drov 
us  off  the  premises.     We   reached   the  land  office,  whe 
Mr.  Payson  proved  up  on  his  claim,  after  which,  upon  o 
return,  we  took  a  longer  way  around,  thus  avoiding  t 
waiting  weapons  of  the  carnivorous  mosquitoes. 

The  fall  days  passed  rapidly ;  the  swamp-grass  w 
mowed  and  put  up  for  hay ;  the  small  products  of  o 
clearing  gathered  for  the  winter,  and  I  again  looked  f 
work  for  my  team.  In  hauling  a  heavy  load  of  shingl 
for  our  Episcopalian  minister,  Dr.  Chamberlain,  I  bro 
down  my  wagon,  and,  until  I  could  get  another,  loan 
and  hired  out  my  horses. 

Mr.  Hull,  the  ferryman,  n'rst   had  " Charley  "  for   u 
The  noble  animal  was  turned  into  Mr.  Hull's  pasture  aero 
Lake  Minnetonka.     In  the  morning,  when  Mr.  Hull  cai 
to  tell  me  that  " Charley"  was  either  strayed  or  stolen, 


, 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  109 

took  him  to  the  stable.  Clean  and  dry,  beautiful  as  a 
picture,  the  faithful  creature  stood  in  his  stall.  He  had 
swum  the  lake  ! 

I  next  hired  the  team  to  a  laborer  named  Christian 
Biblizen,  near  Buffalo  Lake.  He  was  to  pay  me  if  any 
damage  accrued  to  the  horses,  but  it  was  with  sad  misgiv- 
ings I  saw  them  go.  Still,  they  must  help  with  our  living, 
and  the  twenty  dollars  offered  for  their  use  was  not  to  be 
refused.  My  forebodings  were  realized.  On  the  way 
home,  Mr.  Biblizen  got  into  a  floating  swamp.  The  horse 
was  saved,  but  the  mare  sank  entirely  out  of  sight.  I 
never  saw  the  creature  again.  I  received  a  note  for  fifty 
dollars  for  the  loss.  It  is  still  in  my  possession,  and  un- 
paid. 

There  was  not  much  chance  now  to  get  away.  My 
money  was  spent,  my  team  broken.  I  made  a  pair  of 
shafts  and  put  them  in  my  hack,  hoping  that  "Charley" 
would  in  some  measure  fill  the  place  of  the  two  horses. 
Minneapolis  was  now  becoming  quite  a  little  town,  and  I 
found  some  work,  not  only  in  carrying  my  usual  accom- 
paniment of  goods  and  passengers,  but  in  the  sale  of  fish. 
The  prospects  for  this  business  were  better  than  ever  be- 
fore. By  Christmas  Day,  1857,  the  lake  was  safely  frozen 
over,  and  Mr.  Stevens  could  begin  spearing  fish.  So  our 
prospects  for  the  winter  were  fair  enough  to  permit  us  to 
enjoy  the  cheer  of  this  to  us  double  anniversary  day. 
Judge  McLeod  came  down  from  the  shores  of  Lake 
Superior  to  spend  the  day  with  us,  and  meet  a  merry 
company  of  friends.  Doctor,  surveyor,  engineer,  mer- 
chant and  farmers  gathered  around  the  board  that  day, 
and  told  tales  of  Philadelphia,  of  Boston,  of  Xew  York, 
and  of  that  more  modern  yet  not  less  wonderful  city — St. 


110 


ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


Paul.  The  snow  was  deep,  and  for  ten  days  the  sleigh- 
bells  rang,  and  hospitable  doors  stood  open  to  the  visitors 
who  came  in  sleighs  to  visit  the  cheery  friends  near 
Excelsior. 

The  immigration  into  the  Territory  of  Minnesota  at  this 
time  was  remarkable.  On  February  26,  1857,  Congret 
had  passed  an  enabling  act  for  its  admission  into  the 
Union,  and  on  May  11,  1858,  Minnesota  became  a  State. 
As  early  as  1843,  the  Indian  title  to  the  lands  east  of  the 
Mississippi  had  been  extinguished,  and  in  1851  the  titles 
west  of  the  Mississippi  met  the  same  fate.  Hence  there 
was  an  abundance  of  land  now  open  to  settlement,  which, 
with  the  healthful  climate,  caused  hundreds  and  thousands 
to  seek  homes  in  the  embryo  State.  Minneapolis,  foundec 
in  1849,  but  containing  only  one  family  in  1852,  was  grow- 
ing rapidly,  although  it  gave  little  promise  of  the  great 
city  it  was  afterwards  to  become. 

To  the  sturdy  Swiss   settlers  near   St.  Paul   had   beei 
added  many  others,  and   Stillwater  was  coming  into  ii 
portance  as  a  town.     There  was  now  going  on   a  gr( 
rush  for  homes. 

It  will  be  seen  that  I  had  lost  my  mare  just  when  the 
business  of  teaming  would  have  become  a  paying  one.  But 
the  large  influx  of  settlers  made  the  fish  business  profitable, 
and  I  carried  it  on  throughout  the  winter. 

In  February  1  found  my  stock  without  feed,  and  left 
home  to  procure  some  corn  or  oats.  As  there  were  man; 
cattle  dying  from  starvation  and  exposure  in  the  surrouml- 
iiiLr  country,  I  bought  some  hides,  thinking  that  I 
exchange  them  for  corn  in  St.  Paul.  Within  four  miles  of 
home  my  sled  broke  down.  There  was  nothing  to  be  don< 
but  leave  my  load  of  corn  and  hides,  go  home,  make 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  HI 

new  runner,  and  return.  I  had  with  me  a  valuable  dog. 
I  told  him  to  get  on  the  hides  and  stay  there  until  I  told 
him  to  get  off,  and  not  let  anyone  touch  the  skins.  The 
dog  obeyed  me,  for  upon  my  coming  back,  forty-eight 
hours  later,  he  was  still  at  his  post.  I  made  a  new  runner 
and  took  the  sled  back,  and  hauled  the  hides  to  St.  Paul. 
I  forgot  to  call  the  dog  when  I  started  home.  Two  weeks 
later  the  man  who  had  bought  the  skins  stopped  me  on 
the  streets  of  St.  Paul,  and  said  : 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  come  and  call  off  your  dog  !  All 
the  feeding  and  coaxing  I  can  do  will  not  get  him  off  the 
pile  of  skins.  He  would  eat  me  up,  I  believe,  if  I  touched 
them." 

I  had  thought  that  the  dog  was  lost.  Instead  of  follow- 
ing me,  however,  he  had  waited  for  permission  to  leave 
his  charge.  I  coaxed  him  out  and  took  him  home. 

On  February  25th,  1858,  occurred  one  of  the  most  ter- 
rible blizzards  I  have  ever  witnessed.  Mr.  Latterner  arid 
myself  had  gone  from  Excelsior  to  St.  Anthony  on  busi- 
ness, and  had  proceeded  as  far  as  the  center  of  Crystal 
Lake  before  the  storm  struck  us.  We  could  not  see  a  rod 
ahead  of  us.  The  icy  wind  swept  the  lake,  chilling  us 
through,  and  the  snow  drifted  so  rapidly  we  could  not  find 
our  way.  Foolishly  enough,  I  took  the  guidance  instead 
of  trusting  to  the  instinct  of  my  horse,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments we  were  entirely  at  fault.  After  circumnavigating 
the  lake  we  were  still  unable  to  tell  which  way  would  give 
us  shelter.  But  now  I  stopped  "Charley,"  let  him  look 
about  him,  and  take  his  own  way.  In  a  moment  he  gave 
a  great  snort  and  sprang  up  a  steep  bank,  and  when  he 
paused  we  were  on  the  road  to  Minneapolis.  The  noble 


112 


ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


creature  had  saved  our  lives.  We  were  frightfully  cold. 
Mr.  Latterner  said : 

"  If  we  only  had  some  spirits  along,  they  would  keep  us 
from  freezing." 

"  I  have  a  small  flask,"  I  answered,  "if  I  could  get  at  it." 

"For  God's  sake!"  he  cried,  "find  it.  I  am  surely 
falling  asleep  from  the  cold." 

We  certainly  were  freezing. 

"Hold  the  lines!"  I  shouted,  for  he  seemed  about  to 
faint. 

Fumbling  about  with  my  numb  fingers,  I  at  last  pro- 
duced the  flask  and  gave  it  to  him. 

"It  is  a  lump  of  ice,"  he  said  in  despair. 

"Put  it  near  the  fire,"  I  said,  "when  you  get  to  Minne- 
apolis. Dry  whisky  is  the  best  in  a  blizzard." 

"Don't  talk  of  fire  here!  "he  cried,  angrily ;  "how  can 
you  joke  at  such  a  time?" 

But  his  firing  up  kept  him  awake  until  he  had  managed 
to  get  a  few  drops  of  the  liquor  into  his  throat.  Being  of 
a  phlegmatic  temperament,  whisky  elevated  him.  It  would 
have  depressed  me. 

We  reached  Mr.  Bertram's  home  in  Minneapolis  at  last, 
and  found  the  family  absent.  As  they  were  not  expecting 
us,  and  might  be  gone  some  time,  we  entered  and  took 
possession.  The  red-hot  stove  and  the  well-filled  larder 
made  us  quite  comfortable  until  the  return  of  the  family. 
We  did  not  stand  on  ceremony.  As  the  strong  man  armed 
was  not  keeping  his  palace,  he  need  not  expect  that  hi; 
goods  should  be  in  peace.  However,  the  Bertrams  atoned 
for  their  absence  upon  their  return,  by  increased  attention 
to  our  comfort. 

When   I   started   home,  the  blizzard  was  not  only  over, 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  113 

and  the  sun  shining  bright,  but  it  had  turned  warm,  and 
there  had  set  in  a  thaw.  Before  I  reached  Lake  Crystal, 
Mr.  Latterner  having  gone  on  to  St.  Paul,  my  horse  was 
plowing  his  way  through  mud. 

It  was  the  Sabbath  day,  and,  as  if  to  punish  me  for 
violating  the  ordinance  concerning  it,  my  cutter  broke 
down,  and  it  was  late  in  the  night  when  "Charley"  and  I 
reached  home.  As  I  fixed  up  a  clumsy  makeshift  for  my 
runner,  I  had  time  enough  to  reflect  upon  my  Christian 
duty,  to  resolve  to  fulfill  my  wife's  wishes  and  leave  this 
pioneer  life,  as  well  as  to  be  a  better  man.  She  had  no 
difficulty  in  inducing  me  to  promise  that  night  that  no 
matter  what  should  transpire  I  would  make  this  year  the 
last  which  should  witness  the  dangerous  adventures  incum- 
bent upon  a  citizen  of  this  new  Territory. 

So,  I  began  to  make  everything  bend  to  this  result. 
Dismissing  Pat,  I  gave  my  own  personal  attention  to  my 
crop,  and  for  three  months  remained  at  home,  busy  with 
my  farming.  From  June  to  September  I  resumed  my 
hack-driving  to  St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis.  No  such  har- 
vest had  blessed  my  efforts  at  farming  since  I  had  been 
in  the  Territory.  On  my  small  clearing  I  had  five  hun- 
dred heads  of  cabbage,  not  one  of  which  would  have  gone 
into  a  bushel  basket.  Two  hundred  bushels  of  fine  Irish 
potatoes  and  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  corn  for  sale; 
loads  of  melons  and  pumpkins  and  all  other  vegetables  in 
proportion,  promised  me  the  means  in  the  near  future  to 
leave  for  a  more  thickly-settled  country.  I  began  to  re- 
gret having  to  leave  this  fruitful  land  for  others  unknown 
to  me;  but  our  minds  were  decided,  and  we  began  our 
preparations  for  departure. 

Money  was  scarce  now,  and  times  hard  ;   hundreds  of 


ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

dollars  due  me  were  unpaid,  and  could  not  be  collected. 
There  was  little  sale  for  anything.  I  traded  my  corn  for 
lots  in  Excelsior,  sold  my  faithful  "  Charley  "  to  Mr.  Shel- 
don, left  my  vegetables  and  furniture  in  the  hands  of  a 
supposed  trustworthy  friend,  and  with  my  family  went 
down  to  St.  Paul  for  a  boat. 

I  came  to  Excelsior  with  three  thousand  dollars.  I  left 
it  with  just  ninety-nine  dollars  safe  in  the  fold  of  my 
purse.  I  may  as  well  say  here,  that  with  the  exception  of 
some  money  afterwards  paid  me  by  Mr.  Sheldon,  I  nevei 
received  either  property  or  money  from  Excelsior.  A  re- 
port that  we  had  been  murdered  by  Indians  had  something 
to  do  with  the  neglect  or  failure  of  persons  interested  in 
sending  us  our  just  dues. 

As  I  passed  through  Excelsior,  I  realized,  however,  that 
my  work  as  a  pioneer  had  not  been  in  vain.  When  we 
landed  on  the  lake-shore  in  1852,  the  surrounding  region 
was  a  wilderness,  undisturbed  save  by  the  steps  and  voices 
of  red  men.  Wild  beasts  infested  the  forests,  and  civiliza- 
tion seemed  afar  off.  Now,  the  country  was  being  trans- 
formed into  a  fertile  farming  community;  where  I  had 
built  the  first  white  man's  cabin  six  years  previous,  Excel- 
sior, a  thriving  village,  now  stood.  A  church,  school-house, 
hotel,  dry  goods  and  merchandise  stores  and  a  post-office 
were  here,  and  fifty-five  persons  might  be  counted  as  resi- 
dents. Since  Excelsior  has  become  a  famous  watering- 
place,  reached  half  a  dozen  times  a  day  by  cars  from 
Minneapolis  and  St.  Paul,  I  have  never  seen  it.  With  its 
beautiful  homes  in  which  reside  eminent  physicians  and 
retired  merchants,  I  am  not  familiar.  I  have  never  looked 
upon  its  excellent  college,  nor  seen  its  splendid  green- 
houses and  market  gardens,  nor  yet  watched  steamers 


MINNESOTA  PIONEERING.  115 

sailing  away  from  its  piers.  But  the  Excelsior  of  that 
autumn  day,  when  I  last  looked  upon  it,  and  upon  the 
faces  of  the  concourse  of  kind  and  affectionate  friends 
who  had  come  to  see  us  off,  will  remain  vividly  in  my 
mind  so  long  as  life  shall  last.  We  looked  about  us  at 
the  prospects,  since  fulfilled,  of  a  great  agricultural  region  ; 
we  inhaled  the  fresh  breeze  of  Minnetonka,  and  looked 
upon  the  gorgeously  tinted  forests,  and  were  sorry  to  go. 
Yet  Providence  dealt  wisely  with  us.  The  details  of  the 
horrible  Indian  massacre  of  1861,  which  took  place  only 
a  few  miles  from  our  home,  would  have  forever  shattered 
my  poor  wife's  nervous  system.  She  could  never  hear  of 
the  two  hundred  slain  women,  of  the  decapitated  babes,  of 
the  trees  spattered  with  human  blood  and  brains,  without 
convulsive  shudders  of  horror.  It  was  well  we  missed  a 
more  perfect  knowledge  of  all  this,  by  leaving  while  we 
had  the  means  to  remove  to  another  Territory. 

"Charley,"  who  remained  in  Mr.  Sheldon's  charge  until 
death,  as  beloved  by  every  person  in  the  neighborhood  as 
an  intelligent  child  would  have  been,  carried  us  through 
water  and  mud  to  St.  Paul.  I  have  sometimes  wondered 
if  this  faithful  horse  in  his  subsequent  life — for  he  was 
twenty-five  years  old  when  he  died  —  remembered  the 
master  who  more  than  once  owed  life  itself  to  his  sagacity. 

Never  on  earth  shall  I  see  the  friends  who  stood  on  the 
bank  that  November  day  to  witness  our  departure  on  the 
last  boat  of  the  season,  but  the  day  of  our  reunion  is  not 
far  distant.  I  shall  meet  them  in  the  life  beyond.  Dr. 
Sellers,  who  with  his  family  had  spent  a  winter  in  my 
home ;  Judge  McLeod,  whose  love  was  like  a  brother's ; 
Captain  Locke,  of  the  Fort,  Mr.  Morris  and  Mr.  Bokee 
(engineers),  and  many  other  dear  friends  who  had  shared 


116  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

our  hospitality,  grasped  our  hands  at  parting,  and  mingled 
their  regrets  with  our  own  at  the  life-long  separation  be- 
fore us. 

The  river  was  covered  with  a  coating  of  ice,  through 
which  our  boat  plowed  its  way.  By  the  time  Lake  Pepin 
was  reached,  the  ice  was  over  an  inch  thick.  We  reached 
St.  Louis,  however,  in  ten  days,  and  put  up  at  a  hotel. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MISSOURIAN    EXPECTATIONS. 

Boat-fare  was  much  cheaper  in  those  days  than  are  rail- 
road tickets  now.  Our  passage,  including  board,  only  cost 
us  fourteen  dollars.  The  trip  was  a  pleasant  one  and  it 
was  with  great  satisfaction  that  I  listened  often  to  glowing 
praises  of  St.  Paul,  Minneapolis,  Stillwater,  and  Excelsior 
—  all  towns  of  which  I  was  justly  proud. 

After  a  days'  rest  with  my  family,  I  carried  my  letter 
of  introduction  from  Reverend  Mr.  Chamberlain  to  Dr. 
Berkely,  of  the  Episcopalian  church,  and  sought  by  his 
assistance  to  find  work  ere  my  ninety-nine  dollars  escaped 
into  the  cold.  I  rented  a  small  two-roomed  house,  bought 
a  stove  and  a  box  or  two,  and  we  went  to  housekeeping. 
In  this  strange  city,  we  had  no  friends.  The  luxury  of  a 
two-roomed  house  was  evidently  sufficient  for  a  family 
fresh  from  the  wilds  of  Minnesota,  for  no  person  extended 
to  us  a  helping  hand.  After  two  months,  I  at  last  secured 
a  position  as  dairyman  for  a  man  who  had  a  ranch  in  New 
Mexico.  I  was  too  nearly  without  means  to  refuse  any 
situation  offered  me,  but,  as  the  expedition  would  not  start 
until  February,  I  had  to  do  something  until  then.  So  I 
secured  a  temporary  home  for  Lizzie,  my  wife  engaged 
her  services  as  nurse  to  an  invalid  lady,  and  I  worked  as 
waiter  in  the  hotel  at  the  ferry-boat  landing  at  St.  Charles. 

The  immense  bridge  which  spans  the  Mississippi  at  St. 
Louis  was  only  a  dream  in  1858,  and  the  cars  of  the  Iron 

(117) 


118  0^  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

Mountain  Railroad  were  ferried  across  at  St.  Charles,  Mis 
sonri ;  then,  only  a  board ing-h on se. 

I  soon  found  that  my  Missourian  hopes  were  groundless. 
There  was  nothing  in  St.  Louis  or  vicinity  for  me.  As  the 
time  drew  near  for  my  departure  to  New  Mexico,  I  left 
St.  Charles,  went  down  to  St.  Louis,  and  bade  my  loved 
ones  good-bye.  The  dangers  of  the  journey  were  obvious 
enough  to  my  own  mind,  but  I  tried  to  leave  as  favorable 
an  impression  of  it  as  possible  with  my  wife.  The  mother 
of  Mr.  Aleandro,  or  "  Aley,"as  we  called  him,  was  blind. 
To  her  the  way  seemed  full  of  perils,  and  she  earnestly  be- 
sought me  to  take  care  of  her  comfort  and  stay  in  her  old 
age  —  her  beloved  son.  Although  I  was  strong  and  hope- 
ful, I  was  not  sure  but  my  wife  would  have  preferred  the 
same  request  of  Mr.  Aley  concerning  myself  if  she  had 
seen  him.  In  those  days  the  women  dreaded,  worse  than 
death,  the  perils  of  the  Western  trails. 

We  were  to  ascend  the  Missouri  river  to  Independence, 
go  from  there  to  Westport,  Missouri,  and  on  across  the 
plains  to  New  Mexico.  We  accordingly  took  the  train  for 
Jefferson  City,  and  caught  a  boat  there  in  the  night  for 
Independence. 

Imagine  our  feelings  when  the  boat,  within  eighteen 
miles  of  our  destination,  stuck  in  the  ice,  and  no  amount 
of  pressure  could  budge  it  an  inch  farther.  Worse  than 
that,  the  captain  put  up  placards  all  over  the  boat  as  fol- 
lows : 

"FIVE  DOLLARS  TEK  DAY 
FOR  AII    I'A^SENGERS  STAYING  ON  THIS  BOAT." 

There   was    nothing    else    to  do  but    disembark.     The 
"  passengers "  went  ashore,   secured   a  farm   wagon   ; 
conveyance,  a  farmer  as  a  driver,  and  jolted   into  Inde- 


.]//»or/,'/.LV   EXPECTATIONS.  119 

pendeuce  about  midnight.  As  for  myself,  I  was  so  cold 
that  I  put  my  small  luggage  on  my  back,  and  walked  most 
of  the  way.  In  the  morning,  we  went  on  to  Westport, 
where  Mr.  A.  had  a  tine  span  of  American  mules.  The 
next  day  we  left  for  Council  Grove,  Kansas,  the  rendezvous 
of  freighters  and  traders  who  were  crossing  the  plains. 
Kansas  City  stands  now  near  the  old  town  of  Westport, 
but,  save  for  the  Wyandotte  Indians,  there  were  few  set- 
tlers then  on  this  side  of  the  river. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A   TRIP   ACROSS    THE    PLAINS. 

We  started  February  1,  1858,  Mr.  A.  and  myself  driving 
his  mules  to  a  buggy.  We  made  half  of  the  one  hundred 
and  forty  miles  the  first  day,  sleeping  at  night  with  a  set- 
tler named  Barricklow.  Only  a  shell  of  a  house,  the  build- 
ing was  barely  inclosed,  and  I  suffered  greatly  from  cold. 
After  an  almost  sleepless  night,  I  arose  and  went  out  to 
see  after  the  mules.  My  teeth  were  already  chattering 
with  cold,  and  I  did  not  speak  to  the  animals  as  I  passed 
behind  them  with  a  bucket  of  water.  One  of  them  kicked 
at  me,  missed  me,  but  hit  the  bucket,  and  sent  the  icy 
water  in  a  shower-bath  all  over  me.  As  the  freezing 
liquid  splashed  in  my  face,  ran  around  my  neck  and  down 
my  spinal  column,  my  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of 
freighting  seemed  complete. 

Our  fare  settled,  and  the  broken  bucket  paid  for,  we 
left  this  comfortable  mansion.  On  the  way  to  Council 
Grove,  at  the  present  Burlingame,  Mr.  A.  employed  a  man 
named  Louis  Boyse  to  accompany  us  across  the  plains. 
We  reached  Council  Grove  that  night,  and  began  our 
arrangements  for  the  trip  to  New  Mexico. 

Seth  Hayes,  so  well-known  as  the  first  trader  in  the  pres- 
ent county  of  Morris,  Kansas,  kept  a  store  and  an  outfitting 
station  at  Council  Grove  at  this  time.  He  had  in  keeping 
now  six  small  Mexican  mules,  a  good  pony,  a  large  wagon, 
and  various  other  necessary  acquisitions  to  our  outfit.  It 

(120) 


A    Tinr  ACR088   THE  PLAINS.  121 

took  us  four  days  to  get  the  animals  ready  and  lay  in  a 
supply  of  everything  needful  for  our  journey.  An  old 
negress  who  worked  for  Mr.  Hayes  roasted  coffee,  made 
cakes,  and  gave  us  a  keg  of  pickles  and  sauerkraut  as 
relishes. 

On  the  last  night  before  we  started,  the  prospect  seemed 
especially  gloomy  to  me.  Far  away  from  my  wife  and 
child,  and  six  hundred  miles  of  constant  danger  in  an  unin- 
habited region  was  not  a  pleasant  prospect  for  contempla- 
tion. But  I  laughed  with  the  rest,  joked  about  roasting 
our  bacon  with  buffalo  chips,  and  the  enjoyment  we  would 
derive  from  the  company  of  skeletons  that  would  strew 
our  pathway. 

The  few  business  houses  at  this  time  were  mostly  log 
cabins,  and  there  was  very  little  attempt  made  by  the  citi- 
zens to  follow  the  fashions ;  but  there  were  dudes  even 
then  in  Council  Grove.  One  of  these  was  not  attired  in  a 
faultless  broadcloth  suit  with  buttonhole  bouquet,  eyeglass, 
and  cane,  but  wore  an  elaborately  trimmed  buckskin  suit 
fringed  clown  the  side.  His  attire  was  finished  off  with 
beaded  moccasins  —  the  artistic  production  of  some  Chey- 
enne squaw  whose  cunning  hand  had  cut  them  "bias"  at 
the  toe  and  fringed  them  at  the  heel.  He  wore  a  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  and  under  it  were  heavy  masses  of  unkempt 
hair.  Upon  either  side  of  him  hung  a  navy  revolver,  and 
a  bowie-knife  was  stuck  in  his  belt.  He  rode  a  richly- 
caparisoned  mustang,  and  far  surpassed  the  modern  dude 
in  appearance. 

Amusement  was  not  lacking,  however,  even  at  this  early 
time.  Besides  the  cowboys,  there  were  the  courts  to  fur- 
nish fun  for  the  citizens,  and  even  visitors  or  chance  stay- 
ers in  Council  Grove  had  the  stories  of  the  time  rehearsed 


122  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

for  their  amusement.  I  remember  some  of  these  stories 
caused  much  laughter  as  we  sat  listening  to  them  around 
Mr.  Hayes's  lire. 

A  'Squire  Mansfield,  then  a  squatter  on  the  present  site 
of  Council  Grove,  tried   a  fellow  for  some  misdemeanor, 
and  he  was  found  guilty.      With  much  dignity  the  coui 
sentenced  the  prisoner  in  the  following  announcement : 

"The  court  stands  adjourned.  The  constable  now  wi 
march  the  prisoner  to  the  nearest  wet-goods  establishmenl 
and  see  to  it  that  he  sets  up  the  liquor  for  attorneys,  wil 
nesses,  and  spectators.  Boys,  fall  in  !" 

Another  case  as  amusing  was   also  related  :    B.  F.  P( 
kins,  a  talented  young  lawyer,  was  attorney  for  the  plaint 
and  a  Colonel  Sanford  for  the  defendant.     After  the 
rnents  were  finished,  His  Honor  delivered   the  followi] 
charge  to  the  jury  : 

"Gentlemen,  you  have  heard  the  evidence  in  the  a 
You  have  also  listened  to  the  words  of  the  learned  coun* 
for  both  plaintiff  and  defendant.  If  you  believe  what  tl 
counsel  for  the  plaintiff  has  told  you,  then  you  '11  side  f< 
him ;  and  if  you  believe  what  the  counsel  for  the  defen< 
ant  stated,  decide  for  him.  But,  gentlemen  of  the  jury, 
you  are  like  me,  and  don't  believe  what  either  of  thei 
said,  then  I  '11  be  darned  if  I  know  what  you  can  d< 
Constable,  take  charge  of  the  jury  !" 

We  went  off  in  grand  style  the  next  morning.  Tl 
huge  prairie-schooner  was  well  filled.  We  took  with  ni 
for  planting  and  feeding  half  a  ton  of  shelled  corn.  Be- 
sides this,  we  had  Hungarian-grass  seed,  rifles,  boxes  of 
crackers,  bacon  and  sugar,  robes,  blankets,  and  many 
other  articles  —  about  two  tons  in  all.  Louis  Boyse, 
great  fellow,  bigger  than  the  rnule  he  rode,  and  myself, 


A  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS.  123 

small  man,  armed  with  a  "blacksnake"  whip,  and  riding 
a  small  pony,  were  the  attendants.  Mr.  A.  drove  the  six 
Mexican  mules,  and  the  American  mules  were  tied  behind 
the  wagon.  On  the  first  day  we  only  reached  Diamond 
Springs,  about  twenty  miles  from  Council  Grove,  and  there 
camped. 

We  allotted  thirty  miles  per  day  as  our  limit  of  travel, 
and  usually  made  fifteen  of  them  before  breakfast.  We 
would  then  camp,  spend  two  hours  cooking  our  breakfast 
and  resting  our  horses,  after  which  we  would  go  fifteen 
miles  further  and  stop  for  the  night.  At  the  close  of  the 
second  day,  we  reached  Cow  creek,  the  last  and  only 
place  of  refreshment  between  Council  Grove  and  Fort 
Union,  New  Mexico.  A  man  kept  a  whisky  shanty  here, 
and  sold  cheap  liquor  and  dear  oysters  to  travelers.  Few 
passed  his  "house"  without  doing  ample  justice  to  both 
viands  and  spirits.  At  noon  of  our  third  day  out,  we 
wished  the  ranchero  farewell,  and  as  his  dwelling  disap- 
peared in  the  distance  behind  us,  we  found  ourselves  upon 
the  Santa  Fe  trail,  away  from  civilization,  our  faces  toward 
Fort  Union. 

That  night  we  picketed  our  animals,  fed  them,  secured 
everything,  made  a  fire,  cooked  our  bacon  and  coffee,  and 
with  the  consoling  reflection  that  we  had  no  more  wood, 
prepared  for  the  night.  Mr.  A.  slept  in  the  wagon,  and 
Louis  Boyse  and  I  rolled  ourselves  in  blankets  and  lay 
down  upon  a  buffalo -robe  under  the  wagon  and  slept 
soundly  until  morning.  We  were  hungry  and  dirty  the 
next  day  when  our  fifteen  miles  were  made,  and  as  we  had 
reached  a  small  creek,  we  performed  our  ablutions,  and 
admired  ourselves  as  mirrored  in  the  operation.  Mr.  A. 
j  complimented  us  upon  our  agility  and  cleanliness  in  pre- 


'"" 


12tt  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

paring  breakfast.  Talk  about  the  element  named  being 
next  to  godliness  !  The  latter  was  a  long  way  from 
freighters  crossing  the  plains  by  the  Santa  Fe  trail,  if 
cleanliness  was  a  condition  of  its  nearness.  The  sand 
must  have  been  as  good  as  mustard,  though,  for  we  rel- 
ished our  late  breakfast  better  than  we  ever  had  one  eat 
in  a  first-class  hotel. 

We  made   our  usual  afternoon  drive  of  fifteen  miles, 
turned  out  as  on  the  previous  night,  cared  for  our  st( 
ate  our  suppers,  and  retired  to  our  respective  "apartment 

Two  days  later  brought  us  to  the  Big  Bend  of  the 
kansas  river,  where  there  were  dangerous  quicksan< 
We  camped  for  the  night,  hoping  that  we  would  meet  the 
mail  outfit  here  and  secure  help  in  crossing.  The  wagon  be- 
ing heavily  loaded,  Mr.  A.  decided  to  relieve  it  by  taking 
out  half  a  dozen  sacks  of  corn  and  hiding  them.  If  we  did 
not  meet  the  mail  until  we  were  over  the  river,  we  would 
sell  the  corn  to  the  mail-drivers  at  cost,  as  they  were  al- 
ways glad  of  an  opportunity  to  secure  corn  so  far  from 
civilization.  The  mail  did  not  come,  and  we  deposited 
corn  as  ^directed  in  a  low  place  near  the  river. 

Mr.  A.  now  mounted  the  pony,  reconnoitered  a  lit 
and  started  to  cross  in  a  zigzag  direction,  in  order  to  av( 
the  quicksands.  We  followed  with  the  mules  and  wagon. 
The  pony  was  hardly  in  the  river  until  it  nearly  disap- 
peared from  sight.  Of  all  the  yelling,  screeching  ami 
scolding  I  ever  heard,  those  men  did  the  best  job  !  Hut' 
their  horrible  din  either  conciliated  the  demon  of  the  river, 
or  else  the  mules  understood  their  business,  for  one  thing 
is  certain — we  crossed  in  safety. 

"Don't  you  think  you  will  need  your  lungs?"!  asked, 
when  we  all  stood  panting  on  the  other  bank.      "I  have 


A  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS.  125 

heard  that  down  in  New  Mexico,  lungs  are  considered 
essential  to  existence." 

"Shut  up  !"  growled  Mr.  A.  "Mules  always  have  to  be 
frightened  nearly  to  death  or  they  will  not  cross  the  river." 

I  begged  pardon  in  the  London  dialect. 

I  now  rode  ray  pony  ahead  of  the  team  to  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  and  looked  around  me.  Lo  !  Just  beyond  was 
the  whole  tribe  of  Kiowa  Indians.  Boyse  turned  pale, 
and  I  would  have  enjoyed  the  ice  on  Mirinetonka  better 
than  my  present  situation.  Mr.  A.  sung  out,  "See  to  your 
revolvers  and  knives  !  Don't  be  frightened." 

We  stopped  the  team  and  awaited  the  arrival  of  the 
Indians.  It  was  a  motley  scene.  There  were  chiefs, 
bucks,  squaws,  papooses,  horses,  ponies,  robes,  blankets, 
pots  and  kettles  —  all  mixed  up  in  a  general  "jamboree" 
of  noise,  commotion,  odor,  and  color.  They  at  once  sur- 
rounded us.  Being  in  a  civil  mood,  they  merely  begged 
some  powder  and  lead.  We  gave  it  to  them,  without  first 
putting  it  in  rifles,  and  attempted  a  further  conquest  of 
their  savage  hearts  by  opening  boxes  of  sugar  and  crack- 
ers, and  offering  them  a  dainty  repast. 

In  a  few  moments  they  moved  southward,  and  we  now 
toiled  up  the  steep  and  sandy  ascent,  the  poor  mules  pant- 
ing and  quivering  from  the  exertion.  I  rode  along  on  the 
pony,  plying  my  whip  in  circles  over  their  backs,  and 
pitying  the  dumb  brutes  with  all  my  heart.  Looking 
back,  I  saw  a  squad  of  about  thirty  of  the  roughs  of  the 
tribe,  both  squaws  and  braves,  with  faces  painted  black, 
yellow  and  red,  coming  after  us,  I  was  sure  for  plunder. 
They  immediately  overtook  us,  and  began  to  talk  of  rob- 
bing and  killing  us.  We  took  no  notice  of  them,  and  they 
accompanied  us  to  the  top  of  the  sand-hills.  Mr.  A.  could 


126  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

understand  them,  and  he  learned  that  they  expected  us 
cook  for  them.  They  were  told  they  could  have  soi 
sugar  and  crackers.  Accordingly,  they  disposed  them- 
selves in  a  circle  on  the  ground.  I  got  out  a  box  of 
crackers,  filled  a  washbowl  with  sugar,  and  waited  upon  the 
rascals.  Delighted  and  satisfied  with  this  rare  feast  of 
good  things,  they  insisted  on  all  of  us  lighting  our  pipes 
and  smoking  a  pipe  of  peace  together.  The  fumes  of  their 
"kinnikinic"  did  not  deceive  us.  They  meant  mischief. 
Sud  denly  the  biggest  and  ugliest  of  the  bucks  sprang  up, 
and  led  the  way  to  the  supplies  in  our  wagon.  The  rest 
followed  him. 

To  be  left  without  food  and  ammunition,  or  animals  to 
carry  us  onward,  two  hundred  miles  from  a  human  habita- 
tion, was  far  from  pleasant.  We  resolved  to  sell  our  sup- 
plies dearly.  As  the  first  Indian  set  his  foot  upon  our 
wagon-step,  we  made  a  simultaneous  rush  at  them  with 
drawn  revolvers  and  flashing  knives.  Each  of  us  dragged 
a  rascal  down,  and  I  was  about  to  stick  my  man  when 
Mr.  A.  shook  his  head  in  a  silent  "No."  The  Indians 
were  evidently  unarmed,  and  the  majority  of  them  seemed 
to  wait  the  action  of  their  leaders.  They  saw  we  were  going 
to  defend  our  lives  and  our  goods,  and  one  of  them  sprang 
upon  the  tongue  of  the  wagon,  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
our  rifles.  Louis  Boyse  caught  him  and  flung  him  upon 
his  back.  With  an  indescribable,  guttural  howl,  the  in- 
jured redskin  crawled  off,  and  closing  around  him,  they 
Jill  raised  their  war-whoop.  Such  a  prolonged,  relentless, 
blood-curdling  yell  as  that  unearthly,  simultaneous  shriek 
given  by  those  thirty  savage  hoodlums,  I  had  never  heard. 
It  was  worse  than  the  supposed  cries  of  the  condemned 
in  the  infernal  regions.  But  with  their  accustomed  respect 


.1    Tllir  ACROSS  Till-:  PLAINS.  127 

for  what  they  claim  to  possess  in  a  marked  degree  —  per- 
sonal courage  —  they  decided  to  yield  us  the  victory,  and 
retire  from  the  field,  which  they  did  with  much  precipitation. 

When  the  Indians  were  out  of  sight,  I  made  a  fire  of 
buffalo  chips,  put  the  coffee  on  to  boil,  spread  a  blanket 
for  a  tablecloth  on  the  lap  of  Mother  Earth,  and  placed 
thereon  some  canned  stuff  in  order  to  save  time.  (Blessings 
on  the  man  or  woman  who  first  thought  of  canning  eata- 
bles !  The  idea  has  kept  many  a  traveler  over  the  plains 
to  Pike's  Peak  or  Santa  Fe  from  starvation.)  We  did  not 
talk  as  much  as  usual  around  our  hastily  improvised  table. 
Thoughts  of  home  and  loved  ones,  possible  loss  of  life  and 
property,  suffering,  or  perhaps  starvation  on  these  arid 
plains  if  we  escaped  from  the  Indians,  were  some  of  the 
ideas  that  flitted  through  our  minds. 

As  for  myself,  some  way  a  garbled  version  of  the  affair 
was  later  carried  to  my  wife,  to  Minnesota,  and  even  to 
England.  I  was  believed  dead.  Persons  holding  rny 
property  appropriated  it  to  their  own  uses.  My  wife  and 
child  mourned  for  me  as  lost  to  them  by  death  at  the 
hands  of  the  Indians.  Yet  while  most  of  the  friends  who 
wept  over  my  supposed  decease  are  cold  in  death,  I  still 
live  to  write  the  story  of  that  February  day  in  1859. 

In  about  half  an  hour  after  the  Indians  left  us,  we  were 
again  on  our  way,  moving  as  rapidly  as  possible.  We  had 
not  gone  two  miles  further  until  we  met  a  band  of  Chey- 
enne warriors,  in  full  war  equipage.  They  were  beauti- 
fully painted,  and  dressed  in  red.  They  carried  long 
spears,  bows  and  arrows,  and  paid  no  attention  to  us 
except  to  say  "How!"  A  few  miles  further  on,  we 
met  the  mail.  The  men  informed  us  that  the  Cheyennes 
were  after  the  Kiowas,  hence  the  rapid  movements  of 


128  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

both  bands.  We  devoutly  hoped  that  the  artisticall 
draped  Cheyermes  would  overtake  the  picturesque  Kiowi 
and  make  them  repent  of  having  gorged  our  sugar  am 
crackers !  The  mail-drivers  assured  us  of  their  pleasui 
in  getting  the  corn  awaiting  them,  and  that  the  rest  of  our 
way  was  free  from  danger.  We  were  more  cheerful  after 
that  news  was  imparted. 

The  little  mules  were  now  stiff  from  so  much  stopping, 
and  Mr.  A.  ordered  me  to  use  the  whip  more  freely.  The 
Indians  had  mocked  my  driving  performances  that  morn- 
ing, and  the  memory  of  it,  along  with  other  insults  they 
had  offered,  made  the  poor  little  mules  suffer,  I  am  afrai< 
for  I  took  a  sort  of  revenge  by  cracking  my  whip  at  thei 
in  the  absence  of  the  burly  braves  whom  I  longed 
punish  in  like  manner.  We  made  twenty  miles  furth< 
before  dark,  then  turned  out,  picketed  our  animals,  cooked 
our  suppers  over  our  smoky  chip  fire,  and  early  retired 
rest. 

The  air  was  becoming  remarkably  mild  by  this  tinn 
Travel,  relieved  from  the  fear  of  Indians,  was  delightfi 
We  even  thought  of  amusement.  When  we  had  travel* 
about  ten  miles  the  next  day,  I  said  : 

"I  wish  we  had  some  fresh  meat." 

"I  have  a  good  rifle,"  said  Mr.  A.,  "and  I  am  a  sui 
shot.     Do  you  like  prairie  clog?" 

"It  depends  upon  who  cooks  it."  I  answered. 

"You  shall  cook  it,"  replied  Mr.  A. 

\Ve  were  passing  through  a  prairie-dog  village.     At  tl 
door  of  Ids  habitation,  a  tierce  young  dog  set  up  a  yelp 
remonstrance  at  our  interrupting  their  councils,  ami 
A.  silenced   him  with   a   bullet.      Throwing   the  dog  inl 


icy 

? 

tier 


A  TRir  ACROSS  T1IK  PLAINS,  129 

the  wagon,  we  went  on  to  our  limit  of  fifteen  miles,  and 
stopped  for  breakfast. 

I  had  cooked  'possum,  'coon,  even  terrapin,  in  my  time, 
and  was  not  to  be  deterred  by  jeers  from  preparing  fresh 
meat  simply  because  there  was  no  material  at  hand  to  cook 
but  a  prairie  dog,  and  no  fuel  for  a  fire  but  buffalo  chips. 
So  I  made  my  fire,  put  a  vessel  of  water  on  to  boil,  and 
dressed  the  dog.  A  savory  stew  was  soon  prepared  which 
threw  fried  bacon  into  the  shade.  All  of  us  pronounced 
prairie  dog  superior  to  squirrel  or  rabbit,  and  declared  that 
after  this  we  would  often  have  fresh  meat. 

We  were  near  Pawnee  Fork  when  we  camped  that 
night.  After  a  good  night's  rest,  undisturbed  by  dogged 
dreams  or  other  reminders  of  our  stew,  we  rose  early, 
cleaned  and  greased  our  wagon-axles,  and  resumed  our 
journey.  We  looked  back  at  the  sparkling  water  of  the 
Ornado  with  regret.  Before  us  lay  a  journey  of  fifty 
miles  before  we  could  hope  to  strike  another  plentiful 
supply  of  water.  I  wondered,  too,  if  the  breezes  that 
swept  this  high  table-land  could  speak,  what  tales  of  snow- 
storms, of  sand  storms,  of  freezing  and  starving  cattle,  of 
perishing  men,  it  would  whisper  in  our  ears. 

We  carried  with  us  from  our  camping-place  a  supply  of 
fresh  water,  and  without  breakfasting,  made  twenty  miles. 
By  this  time  we  were  again  hungry  for  fresh  meat.  Mr. 
A.  shot  a  fat  young  prairie  dog  as  before,  and  I  skinned 
the  animal  and  prepared  him  for  the  pot.  Being  very 
lean  myself,  I  have  always  been  a  great  admirer  of  fat, 
and  I  testified  to  this  admiration  now  by  putting  a  piece 
of  the  stuff  into  my  mouth.  I  had  no  more  than  masti- 
cated and  swallowed  that  piece  of  fat  until  I  was  sicker 
than  words  can  express.  In  disgust,  I  threw  the  whole 


130  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

dog  away,  and  I  have  never  since  particularly  cared  for 
prairie-dog  meat.  As  to  the  fat,  that  mouthful  has  lasted 
me  through  all  of  the  years  that  have  since  elapsed.  It 
took  a  strong  cup  of  coffee  to  cure  the  dog  fit  from  which 
we  all  seemed  to  be  suffering,  and  bacon  and  eggs  tasted 
like  ambrosia.  Louis  laughed  heartily,  and  insisted  that 
I  was  attacked  with  hydrophobia ;  and  Mr.  A.  said  : 

"  You  shall  have  an  antelope  in  a  day  or  two  for  your 
mess." 

Xever  shall  I  forget  the  quantities  of  bleached  bones 
upon  the  Ornado  table-land  !  Tons  of  iron  strewed  the 
road,  remnants  of  scenes  when  for  temporary  relief  freez- 
ing men  burned  the  woodwork  of  their  wagons.  Gloomy 
reflections  would  force  themselves  upon  our  minds  when, 
almost  without  water,  we  camped  for  the  night.  But  we 
were  only  ten  miles  from  a  fresh  supply,  and  two  or  three 
hours'  travel  the  next  morning  brought  us  to  some  beauti- 
ful springs.  The  earth  was  frozen  around  them,  but  the 
springs  were  open,  and  never  had  water  seemed  to  us  so 
delicious  or  precious. 

Mr.  A.  declared  we  were  now  within  the  range  of  ante- 
lope, and  as  wo  approached  the  Cimarron  river  we  caught 
several  glimpses  of  these  shy  and  beautiful  animals.  As 
we  neared  our  camping-ground,  he  was  fortunate  enough 
to  bring  clown  a  fine  young  kid.  When  we  had  camped 
for  breakfast,  we  took  a  sack  of  buffalo  chips  —  carried 
forward  for  fuel  — made  our  tiiv,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  cooking  and  helping  to 
eat  fried  antelope-chops. 

I  had  now  ridden  my  pony  three  hundred  miles:  to 
say  I  was  sick  of  riding,  feebly  expresses  my  feelings.  I 
had  been  compelled  to  crack  my  whip  at  the  poor  little 


.1    TRIP  ACROSS   THE  PLAI.\*.  131 

mules,  too,  until  my  shoulders  were  very  lame.  Some 
way  or  other,  that  was  not  all  of  my  misery.  The  ghost  of 
that  antelope  or  some  other  mysterious  influence  affected 
me  almost  to  tears.  Suddenly  I  stopped  the  train.  I  could 
carry  my  vague  regrets  no  farther.  I  must  do  penance  for 
my  sins.  To  my  surprise,  my  companions  were  similarly 
affected.  I  said,  languidly,  "  It  is  a  good  thing  to  be 
mutually  agreed,"  and  it  was  some  minutes  before  my 
emotion  or  vomition  would  let  me  say  more.  When  we 
had  made  our  day's  journey  and  stopped  for  the  night, 
there  were  few  words  spoken.  Nervous  sympathy  made 
words  unnecessary.  All  we  wanted  was  repose.  We  rolled 
up  in  our  blankets  in  silence  and  fell  asleep.  Antelopes, 
graceful  and  fleet,  flitted  swiftly  through  my  dreams ;  but 
I  was  as  shy  of  them  as  they  were  of  me. 

For  the  first  time  during  our  journey,  we  stopped  the 
next  morning  long  enough  to  cook  an  early  breakfast.  I 
made  some  biscuits  and  some  coffee.  We  partook  spar- 
ingly, however ;  the  lesson  on  intemperance  had  been  too 
strongly  impressed  and  expressed  for  us  to  fall  again  so 
soon. 

We  crossed  the  Cimarron  that  night,  and  drank  a  cup 
of  tea  on  the  opposite  bank.  Wrapped  in  our  blankets,  we 
lay  down  as  usual  to  sleep,  but  something  kept  me  awake : 
I  did  not  know  but  what  it  might  be  prairie  dog  or  ante- 
lope. Louis  was  the  sleepiest-headed  of  mortals.  Once 
asleep,  nothing  short  of  an  earthquake  would  have  dis- 
turbed him.  As  I  slept  lightly,  and  wakened  easily,  I 
always  kept  my  boots  and  my  only  pony-bridle  under  my 
head,  in  order  that  I  might  be  prepared  for  any  emergency 
that  might  arise.  I  had  just  fallen  asleep,  when  I  felt 
something  move  under  my  head.  I  put  up  my  hand  :  one 


132  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

of  the  boots  and  the  bridle  were  gone.  I  sprang  up  in 
time  to  see  in  the  dim  light,  the  outline  of  a  large  wolf, 
but  the  yell  I  gave  must  have  disconcerted  his  wolfship, 
for  he  ran,  leaving  the  boot  and  the  bridle.  My  companion 
knew  nothing  of  it  the  next  morning,  and  but  for  the  con- 
dition of  my  property  would  have  kept  on  insisting  that  it 
was  all  "a  bootless  dream."  I  had  no  fancy,  however,  to 
ride  into  Fort  Union  on  a  pony  wearing  a  rope  bridle,  my- 
self minus  one  boot,  and  I  praised  the  fates  that  I  had  re- 
covered my  confiscated  goods. 

In  two  days  from  that  time,  without  accident  or  incident, 
we  had  made  sixty-five  miles,  and  camped  at  the  Rabbit 
Ear  creek.  A  solitary  Indian  came  up  to  us  and  warned 
us  that  there  was  trouble  among  the  Utes,  but  we  were 
more  suspicious  of  him  than  of  them,  and  watched  him  all 
night.  We  also  met  a  second  mail  party  here,  and  they 
reported  the  road  clear.  The  climate  was  becoming  very 
delightful,  and  when  we  had  rested  our  mules,  cleaned  our 
wagon-axles,  and  bathed  ourselves,  we  felt  anxious  to  push 
forward  to  the  next  camping-ground,  known  to  travelers 
by  the  trail  name,  "the  Wagon  Mound.'-  It  was  about 
fifty  miles  to  this  point,  and  there  was  an  abundance  of 
water  there,  entirely  free  from  alkali. 

Often  now  small  herds  of  antelope,  evidently  surprised 
at  the  invasion  of  their  territory,  lifted  their  pretty  heads, 
and  stared  at  us  with  their  lovely  dark  eyes,  scarcely  mov- 
ing from  their  tracks. 

Mr.  A.,  who  was  exceedingly  fond  of  displaying  his 
seventy-five-dollar  rifle,  at  last  called  a  halt,  and  looked 
knowingly  at  me. 

uBy  all  means,"  I  said,  an>\\ering  the  inquiry. 

Mr.  A.  accordingly  shot  one  of  the  beautiful  creatures, 


.1    71/,'//'  ACROSS   Till-:  PLAINS.  133 

and  that  day  when  we  halted  we  turned  our  backs  upon 
our  past  experience,  and  dined  on  antelope. 

The  road  here  was  a  fine  example  of  what  Nature  could 
display  in  the  matter  of  irregularities  on  the  earth's  sur- 
face. The  noise  and  turmoil  incident  to  getting  the  mules 
over  this  tract  of  rough  country  either  digested  our  supper 
or  else  our  theories  of  temperance  better  accorded  with  our 
practice,  for  this  time  we  suffered  no  inconvenience,  and 
slept  soundly  during  the  night. 

The  next  stopping-place  was  known  to  freighters  by  the 
elegant  name  of  "The  Devil's  Backbone,"  and  for  this 
classical  retreat  we  started  while  the  morning  star  was  yet 
visible.  "Start  the  mules  briskly,"  commanded  Mr.  A., 
"and  keep  them  on  the  swing.  If  they  are  not  kept  warm 
they  will  cave  in."  So  I  plied  my  whip  unmercifully. 
The  big  mules  were  very  lame,  and  the  little  ones  were  in 
a  pitiable  condition.  As  for  myself,  I  was  no  longer  sick 
from  riding  —  I  was  sore.  Language  cannot  express  my 
pity  for  the  faithful  dumb  brutes,  nor  my  own  sufferings 
in  my  attempts  to  maintain  a  dignified  position  upon  the 
pony.  After  three  hours  of  rapid  travel  we  camped,  and 
made  the  wretched  animals  as  comfortable  as  possible. 

We  were  out  of  flour ;  so  we  soaked  crackers  and  fried 
them,  to  eat  with  our  slices  of  antelope,  and  then  lay  down 
and  rested  for  two  hours.  Within  ten  miles  of  the  "Devil's 
Backbone,"  a  terrible  wind-  and  sand-storm  struck  us. 
The  sand  not  only  filled  our  eyes,  but  all  the  air.  We 
could  not  see  each  other  or  the  mules.  The  latter  were  so 
frightened  that  we  could  hardly  manage  them,  and  they 
absolutely  refused  to  advance.  What  would  be  the  result 
should  the  storm  continue  any  length  of  time,  we  could 
not  foresee.  It  was  impossible  to  cook,  for  we  were 


134:  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

without  water ;  the  darkness  was  most  intense,  and  the 
terrific  storm  increased  in  violence  each  moment.  We 
made  the  animals  as  safe  as  possible,  and  retired,  cold  and 
hungry,  in  a  state  of  nervous  depression  impossible  to 
-describe. 

But  the  storm  did  not  last  half  the  night.  In  the  morn- 
ing, all  was  safe,  and  the  air  was  as  fresh  and  balmy  as  in 
early  spring-time.  Our  cheerfulness  revived  as  we  sur- 
veyed the  heaped-up  sand-drifts,  and  thought  of  the  pleas- 
ure of  plowing  through  them.  But  while  we  hitched  up 
the  mules  I  was  thinking  of  the  vicinity  of  the  "Devil's 
Backbone,"  and  asking  myself  if  the  proximity  of  Satan 
.accounted  for  the  sand  being  flung  in  our  eyes  and  strewn 
in  our  pathway.  The  word  "backbone"  sent  me  off  on 
another  train  of  thought.  We  would  emulate  Job's  pa- 
tience, and  travel  on  to  a  place  of  safety  beyond  the  limits 
of  his  Satanic  territory. 

We  traveled  slowly  now,  for  we  were  all  nearly  worn 
out,  but  we  were  certain  if  nothing  happened,  to  reach 
Fort  Union  in  three  or  four  days.  There  were  plenty  of 
watering-places  during  these  last  stages  of  our  journey. 
Point  Rocks,  Cold  Springs  and  Wet  Stone  Basin  were  all 
passed,  and  with  animals  that  had  made  better  time  than 
the  mail  —  for  we  were  only  twenty -eight  days  on  the 
road,  including  our  delays  on  the  Missouri  river,  at  Inde- 
pendence, and  Council  Grove  —  we  entered  Fort  Union 
March  1,  1859. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

LIFE   IN   NEW  MEXICO. 

The  day  after  our  arrival  in  Fort  Union,  New  Mexico,  I 
was  escorted  to  my  new  home,  which  was  on  a  ranch  be- 
longing to  Don  Aleandro,  on  the  Mora  road,  about  eight 
miles  from  Fort  Union  and  ten  miles  from  the  chief  town, 
Mora. 

Mr.  A.,  being  busy  with  his  sutlership  duties,  commis- 
sioned a  negro  slave  belonging  to  him  to  take  the  big 
mules  and  conduct  me  to  the  ranch.  This  man  was  in 
charge  of  five  hundred  head  of  cattle,  and  had  come  into 
the  Fort  for  provisions.  A  mile  from  the  ranch  was  an  ele- 
vation he  called  "the  mountain."  I  named  it,  "Mizpah." 
The  appearance  of  the  region  before  me  from  this  eleva- 
tion was  unique.  There  was  something  in  it  both  Spanish 
and  beautiful.  Glancing  over  the  landscape,  my  eye  fell 
upon  a  heap  of  stones  surmounted  by  a  cross. 

u  What  does  that  mean,  Jim  '?"  I  asked. 

uThat  was  a  Mexican  there  buried,"  he  replied.  "Gam- 
bled—  quarreled — got  killed.  We  put  him  a  cross;  the 
padre  order  it.  I  know,  sefior,  who  done  killed  him. 
Don't  you  believe  he's  far  away  from  you,  sefior." 

It  was  not  difficult  to  recognize  the  character  of  this  man 
with  whom  I  was  afterwards  obliged  to  have  dealings. 

I  looked  toward  the  house  as  we  neared  the  ranch,  and 
again  paused  to  take  a  view  of  the  surroundings.  Although 
the  nearest  one  was  twenty  miles  away,  and  it  would  have 

(135) 


136  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


taken  a  good  fifty  miles  to  reach  most  of  them,  the  moun 
ains  looked  very  near,  and  seemed  to   form  a  semi-circle 
around  the  upper  part  of  the  ranch  —  a  body  of  land  four 
miles  square.     The  River  Mora  formed  a  junction  upon  it 
with  the  Rio  Coyote,   and  the  graceful  curves  of  these 
streams  were  encircled  with   copses  of   cedar,   pine,   and 
other  evergreens,  making  it  always  seem  perpetual  sum- 
mer.    The   land   was   irrigated,    and    was  evidently   very 
fertile.     In   the   center   of   this   tract   of   about   two   hu 
dred  acres  was  a  massive  adobe  mansion,  evidently  ve 
old,   and   of    peculiar   construction.     Upon    entering  it 
found   it  to  contain   a  large  number  of  rooms,  includi 
what  was  called  a  cook-house,  and  a  fandango-room  fiftee 
feet  wide  and  fifty  feet  long,  and  a  refreshment-room  twel 
by  fifteen  feet.     At  the  back  of  the  house  were  three  lar 
rooms  with  a  door  for  egress  into  the  yard.     From  tl 
door  at  any  time  of  day  could  be  seen  the  snow-topp 
mountains.     Opposite  these  were  three  large  interior  roo 
for  storing  provender  for  man  and  beast.     The  front  doo 
were  large  enough  to  admit  carriages  or  wagons,  and  we 
heavily  ironed.     Inside  of  them  were  smaller  doors,  to 
used  for  persons  passing   in  and  out.     The  woodwork 
the  back  doors  was  filled  with  heavy-headed  spikes,  an 
although  there  were  many  windows   ///.v/Vr  the  inclosur 
there  were  none  on  the  outside.     Around  the  building  w 
a  great  corral  that  would  have  held  five  hundred  cattle 
five  thousand  sheep.     The  wall   was  built  of  heavy  pi 
logs  set   perpendicularly,  in   trenches  three  feet  deep, 
dozen  peon  houses  flanked  the  outer  part  of  the  corral 
the  river  side.     The   building,   the  plaza  and  the  corr 
formed  a  fort  as  it  were,  almost  impregnable  to  Indians. 
.Jim  pointed  out  the  various  rooms  and  their  uses.     Th 


LIFE  l.\  .YA'ir  MEXICO.  137 

great  kitchen  had  a  huge  fireplace  furnished  with  shelves 
for  the  roasting  of  whole  calves  or  sheep,  and  it  had  an 
opening  in  one  side  to  pass  the  viands  into  the  refresh- 
ment-room, and  also  into  the  best  room  of  the  "  miadorna" 
and  his  family.  Across  the  hall  was  a  large  room  for  vis- 
itors attending  the  Mexican  fandangoes.  Jim  informed 
me  that  the  building  alone  had  cost  seven  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  now  it  was  a  dreary,  deserted  place,  turned  over 
to  the  management  of  strangers. 

I  at  once  informed  the  Mexican  in  charge  that  he  must 
quit  the  castle,  for  I  had  been  appointed  his  successor. 
He  immediately  gathered  together  his  belongings  and 
vacated  the  premises,  and  I  assumed  the  responsibility  of 
managing  the  place.  I  had  brought  the  pony  with  me, 
arid  when  Jim  and  the  Mexican  were  gone,  as  he  was  my 
sole  companion,  I  took  the  faithful  creature  into  the  house, 
and  put  him  in  one  of  the  empty  rooms  for  the  night.  I 
had  no  bed,  no  chair,  no  table,  nothing  but  some  straw 
and  a  buffalo-robe.  I  found  some  wood,  made  a  blazing 
fire,  and  sat  down  on  the  buffalo-robe.  I  could  not  expect 
any  supplies  until  morning,  and  I  decided  to  make  the 
best  of  things.  But  meditation  even  by  a  pine  fire  did 
not  prevent  me  from  getting  hungry  ;  so,  taking  a  torch,  I 
began  to  forage  for  provisions.  I  was  lucky  enough  to 
find  the  remains  of  the  Mexican's  supper,  a  bowl  of 
utobie,"  which  at  least  filled  me  up.  After  eating,  I  lay 
down  before  the  fire  to  rest  if  not  to  sleep. 

Morning  brought  my  friend  Boyse  with  a  team  and 
wagon,  boxes  of  bedding,  of  bacon,  bread,  and  beans,  and 
some  cooking  utensils.  He  was  to  be  the  farmer,  and  I 
the  overseer  and  dairyman  at  the  same  time.  Mr.  Aley 
came  from  the  Fort  and  brought  me  a  peon  or  slave,  who 


—10 


138  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

was  to  occupy  one  of  the  peon  cottages,  and  whom  I 
found  a  good  old  man,  capable  and  willing,  and  fully 
acquainted  with  the  details  of  a  ranchero^s  duties. 

Boyse  soon  grew  tired  of  New  Mexico,  and  demanded 
that  Mr.  Aley  take  him  back  to  the  States  or  to  the  Terri- 
tory of  Kansas.  His  request  was  granted,  and  in  a  few 
days,  as  Mr.  Aley,  the  "  Miadoma  la  grande,"  was  gone  also, 
I  was  the  sole  miadoma  of  the  estate,  and  my  only  com- 
panions were  the  Mexican  peon  and  his  family.  In  sport, 
Mr.  A.  called  me  "John  Bull,"  because  I  was  an  English- 
man, and  during  my  stay  in  the  Territory  everybody  called 
me  "Mr.  Bull,"  "Senor  John,"  or  "Seiior  Juan."  Mr.  A. 
promised  me  when  he  left,  that  in  June  he  would  bring 
my  wife  and  child  ;  so  I  resigned  myself  to  circumstan< 
and  entered  upon  the  duties  of  my  position  with  as  mi 
patience  and  courage  as  the  case  would  allow. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  enumerate  the  duties  expect< 
of  me.  Hotbeds  on  the  inside  of  the  spacious  plaza  must 
be  prepared  ;  a  big  garden  made  ;  the  Mora  river  dammed 
so  the  land  could  be  irrigated  ;  a  place  selected  for  the 
trench  from  which  the  water  was  to  be  distributed  ;  tl 
fresh  cows  brought  in  from  the  Rio  Grande,  and  the  b( 
ones  selected  for  the  dairy. 

A  good  bed,  chairs,  tables,  and  a  colored  cook,  had  n< 
been  provided,  and  I  was  more  comfortable.  I  had 
mule  furnished  me,  too,  to  use  in  overseeing  the  men. 
bought  two  more  peons,  as  now  the  crops  had  to  be 
planted  and  the  irrigating  ditches  prepared.  Seed  wheat 
was  two  and  a  half  dollars  per  bushel,  and  I  was  ordered 
to  put  in  ten  acres  of  wheat.  The  only  person  havii 
seed  wheat  to  sell  was  an  old  Spaniard  living  five  mil< 
from  me,  on  the  Mora  road.  He  was  a  great  land-hold* 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  139 

having  acquired  large  land  grants  from  the  United  States 
at  the  close  of  the  Mexican  war,  as  concessions  or  rewards 
for  his  services  in  securing  peace.  This  land  he  sold,  not 
by  the  acre,  but  by  the  yard,  or  "varras."  He  kept  thirty 
employes,  and  had  twelve  grandsons  of  whom  he  was 
very  proud.  Greatly  prejudiced  against  "Americanos," 
he  answered  in  reply  to  rny  request,  "No  tenny,  no  tenny, 
hombre  (man)."  One  of  his  grandsons  good-humoredly 
told  me  how  to  get  the  wheat. 

"Send  your  peon — Jose  Maria  Barrella,"  he  said. 

I  did  so,  and  the  old  Spaniard,  not  knowing  that  he  was 
my  peon,  sold  him  all  the  wheat  I  wanted. 

I  now  employed  two  men  to  plow  in  the  wheat.  It  was 
amusing  to  watch  the  plowing.  Mexican  plows  were  made 
of  slender  shafts  of  wood  with  turned-up  handles ;  a  piece 
of  wood  ironed  at  the  point  turned  the  soil ;  a  big  dry  cow 
or  an  ox  drew  the  implement,  and  a  "moaria"  or  woman 
walked  ahead  as  a  guide,  while  the  man  walked  behind 
holding  the  handles.  There  were  no  drills,  and  I  sowed 
the  wheat  broadcast  with  my  own  hands. 

The  dam  occupied  the  attention  of  all  hands  for  some 
time.  The  amount  of  rocks,  earth,  turf  and  brush  used  in 
its  construction  was  immense.  This  work  done  and  the 
trenches  ready,  the  water  of  the  river  was  at  my  disposal. 
The  land  was  laid  off  in  squares,  and  the  water  turned 
upon  it.  Irrigators  kept  the  water  within  proper  bounds, 
and  stirred  the  earth  with  hoes  so  the  moisture  would  sink 
down  and  wet  the  soil.  After  a  sufficient  time  had  elapsed, 
ten  acres  of  our  experiment  corn  was  planted  by  a  man 
following  a  single-shovel  plow.  The  crop  made  nothing 
but  fodder,  but  ten  acres  of  Mexican  corn  made  a  good 
crop.  Thirty  acres  of  Hungarian  grass  were  sown,  ten 


140  ON  TWO   CONTINENT*. 


] 


acres  were  made  ready  for  the  oats,  two  acres  for  Cali- 
fornia beardless  barley,  and  three  acres  were  left  for  sun- 
dries. Men  with  hoes  kept  down  the  weeds.  The  soil  was 
a  black  alluvial,  six  feet  in  depth,  and  very  fertile. 

As  yet  the  cows  had  not  been  brought  to  the  ranch,  and 
the  men  complained  of  the  lack  of  milk  and  butter.  I 
went  to  see  Mr.  A.,  who  was  just  about  to  start  for  the 
States  on  his  sutlership  business,  and  told  him  how  the 
colored  cook  was  hampered  in  providing  acceptable  food 
through  the  absence  of  eggs,  milk,  and  butter.  He  : 
mediately  bought  ten  cows  and  sent  them  to  the  ranch, 
made  all  arrangements  with  him  before  he  started  for  so 
necessaries  for  the  ranch,  and  above  everything  else  he  was 
to  bring  my  wife  and  child.  I  sent  Lottie  full  instruction 
and  advice  concerning  her  trip,  and  urged  the  benefits  s 
would  derive  from  the  salubrity  of  the  climate.  Mr. 
promised  faithfully  to  carry  my  message,  and  upon  his  re- 
turn to  bring  with  him  the  precious  charge  intrusted  to  his 
care. 

I  now  turned  my  attention  to  my  work,  and  the  da 
passed  so  rapidly  that  before  I  was  aware  of  it  the  time  f 
Mr.  A.'s  return  was  close  at  hand.     I  had  put  in  all  of  t 
crops,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  my  men,  irrigated  the 
I  had  attended  to  my  garden  and  hotbeds,  and  done  in 
best  to  raise  potatoes.     I  may  as  well  say  here,  that 
never   grew   them   in   New  Mexico   larger  than    inarbl 
The  soil  lacked  something  necessary  for  their  growth. 
also  fitted  up  a  dairy-room,  and  now  awaited  my  wilVs 
rival  before  we  began  our  butter-making. 

I  had  on  hand  a  large  amount  of  materials  for  salad 
and  decided  to  take  them  to  the  store  at  the  Fort  an 
exchange  them  for  articles  for  use  on  the  ranch.  I  had 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  141 

washtub  full  of  pepper-grass,  onions,  lettuce,  and  other 
early  garden  stuff,  and  I  drove  a  mule  team  to  a  wagon. 
The  morning  was  clear  and  bright,  with  no  sign  of  wind 
or  storm,  but  before  I  was  half-way  to  the  Fort  a  fearful- 
looking  black  cloud  obscured  the  firmament,  and  hail- 
stones began  to  fall  about  me.  I  was  four  miles  from 
shelter,  and  the  mules  plunged  frightfully.  The  cloud 
made  the  air  almost  dark,  and  from  it  fell  the  most  fearful 
torrents  of  rain,  mixed  with  the  largest  hailstones  I  ever 
saw.  With  one  hand  I  tried  to  hold  the  rearing  team, 
and  with  the  other  caught  the  tub,  turned  out  the  green 
stuff,  and  put  the  inverted  vessel  over  my  head.  I  had  to 
zigzag  about  on  the  prairie  in  order  to  save  the  mules, 
and  by  the  time  the  storm  ceased  I  had  enjoyed  the  ex- 
perience of  Diogenes  as  long  as  I  cared  about  it.  My 
green  stuff  was  all  lost  or  spoiled,  and  my  labor  and  my 
first  prospective  ten  dollars  were  floating  around  on  the 
prairie  in  a  new  kind  of  soup,  to  my  own  regret  and  that 
of  the  ladies  in  the  Fort.  But  I  was  soon  consoled  for 
my  losses  by  a  letter  from  my  wife,  who  wrote  that  I 
might  expect  herself  and  little  Lizzie  in  a  month,  if  they 
were  not  murdered  on  the  way  by  Indians. 

Flour  was  then  very  high  in  New  Mexico ;  it  cost  me 
ten  dollars  per  hundred  pounds,  and  I  had  to  send  to 
Taos  to  get  it.  Labor  was  as  cheap  as  provisions  were 
dear.  The  Mexican  who  hauled  the  flour  was  gone  four 
days,  and  charged  me  only  two  dollars.  When  I  asked 
him  how  he  could  work  so  cheaply,  he  replied : 

"It  nothing  cost  on  the  way.  Friends  feed  a  Mexican 
for  nothing.7' 

The  hospitality  of  the  Mexicans  was  truly  remarkable. 
They  freely  entertained  friends  or  strangers,  and  disdained 


14:2  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

payment  for  their  courtesy.  Roman  Catholics  in  religion, 
I  found  them  a  priest-ridden  people,  many  of  whom  were 
so  dominated  by  the  worst  elements  in  their  society,  that 
they  were  not  to  be  trusted.  But  the  great  majority  of 
the  masses  were  kind-hearted,  hospitable,  and  temperate. 
Drunkards  were  rare  among  them.  There  was  hardly  a 
respectable  white  resident  near  me.  Half-breed  Mexicans, 
Indians  and  negroes,  many  of  whom  were  peons,  and 
some  of  whom  were  thieves  and  worse  characters,  were 
the  classes  who  sought  employment,  and  therefore  wei 
the  ones  best  known  to  me.  The  rich  old  Spaniards  ai 
native  Mexicans  were  rare  in  this  community,  but  thei 
were  some  of  them,  and  they  were  vastly  superior 
honor  and  intellect  to  the  half-breed  whites  in  that  part 
the  Territory. 

On  June  20,  1859,  my  dear  wife  and  daughter  arriv< 
As  I  clasped  them  in   my  arms  and  recalled  our  weai 
separation,  I  resolved  that  only  death  should  ever  agj 
keep  us  apart  for  any  length  of  time ;   and  I  have  kept  n 
word.     The  growing  crops,  notwithstanding   a   delay 
their  growth  caused  by  the  bursting  of  the  dam  the  d; 
of   the   storm,   encouraged    me    to   think   that    prosperil 
would    crown    our    efforts    with    success,    and 
seemed  once  more  in  store  for  us. 

We;  were  very  comfortable  now,  compared  with  my  ]>; 
experience.  Clean  beds,  good  cooking,  books,  and  man; 
other  unknown  luxuries  came  with  Charlotte  and  Lizzie. 
The  dairy  business  was  begun,  and  our  plans  were  shaping 
themselves  rapidly,  when  another  terrible  hailstorm  visited 
us.  The  beautiful  green  wheat  turned  into  a  bed  of 
the  grass  crop  was  ruined.  My  wife  looked  over  th< 
dreary  scene,  and  asked,  mournfully, 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  143 

"What  are  yon  going  to  do  now?" 

"Go  to  work  novi"  I  answered,  as  cheerfully  as  I  could  ; 
"  I  am  used  to  calamity." 

She  looked  up  at  me  as  I  sat  on  my  mule,  and  burst  out 
laughing.  I  had  been  over  to  the  store  and  bought  me 
some  low  shoes  and  a  striped  shirt.  Her  laugh  was  hardly 
complimentary,  but  I  laughed  too,  and  sprang  off  and 
kissed  her. 

"Time  evens  up  all  odds,"  I  said  gayly ;  "work  will 
make  good  our  losses." 

During  this  last  hailstorm  two  herders  were  badly  hurt, 
two  calves  and  half  a  dozen  pigs  were  killed,  besides  the 
damage  to  crops.  Most  singular  was  the  fact  that,  while 
hailstones  fell  by  the  wagon-load  on  my  ranch,  the  storm 
extended  only  a  distance  of  two  miles.  Mr.  A.'s  loss  was 
heavy,  but,  as  I  was  to  receive  one-half  of  all  the  profits, 
mine  was  irreparable. 

The  dairy  business  now  was  our  last  resource.  We  had 
forty  cows  giving  milk.  They  were  inferior  stock  and  not 
very  valuable  as  butter-makers  or  milk-yielders.  I  hired 
several  extra  hands,  among  whom  was  a  cook,  leaving  my 
wife  the  care  of  the  butter,  and  I  the  cheese.  In  a  short 
time  we  made  seventy  pounds  of  cheese  and  thirty-five 
pounds  of  butter  per  week.  The  nutritious  Mexican  grass 
made  the  butter  very  excellent  in  quality,  but  the  milk 
seemed  deficient  in  caseine  and  did  not  produce  as  much 
cheese  as  it  ought  to  have  done. 

In  addition  to  my  dairy  work,  there  was  much  else  to 
do.  The  wheat  and  grass  land  had  to  be  replowed  and  put 
to  some  use.  The  products  of  my  hotbeds  —  a  thousand 
cabbage  and  five  hundred  cauliflower  plants  —  were  now 
ready  to  set  out.  The  main  herd  must  be  brought  from 


14:4:  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS 

the  Rio  Grande,  and  (as  it  was  not  allowable  to  herd  cat- 
tle near  the  Fort)  they  had  to  be  kept  at  Ockata,  aboi 
thirty  miles  from  the  ranch. 

The  negro,  Jim  Tillman,  who  first  escorted  me  to  D< 
Aleandro's  ranch,  was  the  chief  herder.  He  was  a  dai 
gerons  man,  who  had  been  sent  out  from  the  States  two 
three  years  before  for  attempting  to  poison  a  whole  family 
I  learned  soon  that  he  did  not  remain  at  his  post  vei 
steadily,  but  would  often  leave  the  herd  with  the  oth< 
men  and  go  off  for  two  or  three  days'  absence.  Win 
there  were  fandangoes  going  on,  he  would  kill  the  youi 
calves  and  sell  the  meat.  Sometimes,  for  gambling-mone^ 
he  would  sell  a  cow.  I  ordered  him  home  to  the  ranch, 
but  he  did  little  better  there  than  with  the  herd.  He 
would  steal  my  mule  and  ride  him  nearly  to  deatli  of 
nights,  and  do  other  as  disagreeable  things. 

One  morning  Jim  was  brought  into  the  yard  covered 
with  blood.  The  two  Mexicans  who  carried  him  said  that 
he  had  run  off  and  gone  to  a  fandango,  got  drunk,  and 
fought  until  he  was  nearly  dead.  I  had  to  nurse  him,  and 
I  became  anxious  to  have  him  removed,  as  I  feared  my 
family  were  not  safe  so  long  as  he  remained. 

Dr.  Connelly,  so  well  known  as  a  Santa  Fe  trader,  at 
last  bought  the  negro,  and  promised  to  send  him  far  to  the 
south,  and  away  from  St.  Louis.  Mr.  A.  received  two 
thousand  dollars  for  him.  The  doctor  was  to  start  by  the 
mail  outfit,  but  was  to  take  with  him  his  own  conveyance, 
and  would  use  the  slave  to  cook  for  the  party.  Mr.  A.'s 
parting  injunction  to  me  was  to  bring  Jim  to  the  Fort, 
with  his  bedding  and  gun.  So  I  flattered  the  negro,  and 
took  him  with  me  to  Fort  Union.  Dr.  Connelly  carried 
him  off,  and  he  troubled  us  no  more. 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  145 

I  had  been  obliged  to  send  my  cow-herder  at  the  ranch, 
Joan  Garcia,  to  take  Tillman's  place  with  the  main  herd, 
and  my  peon,  Jose  Maria  Barrella,  took  the  herd.  I  was 
busy  with  my  cheese-making,  and  could  not  watch  him 
closely,  and  the  first  thing  I  knew  the  peon  had  run  off  to 
a  neighboring  hamlet,  leaving  the  cows  to  graze  at  will. 
It  took  some  time  to  get  the  herd  of  cows  where  they  be- 
longed, and  by  that  time  I  was  as  warm  as  my  mule.  I 
went  after  the  slave,  and  carried  with  me  a  small  gun  with 
a  bayonet.  I  found  him  serenely  enjoying  himself  with 
his  old  neighbors,  and  ordered  him  home.  Seeing  the 
bayonet,  he  fell  on  his  knees,  and  turned  his  eyes  toward 
heaven,  presenting  a  most  striking  picture  of  contemptible 
humiliation.  It  was  too  much  !  I  jerked  off  his  blanket 
and  kicked  him  — not  for  his  offense,  but  because  he  could 
so  far  forget  that  he  was  a  man,  and  then  I  turned  away 
and  left  him.  About  two  hours  later,  Barrella  came  to  me, 
and  touched  his  hat,  and  went  back  to  his  cows. 

From  that  day  until  I  left  Mexico,  he  was  the  most  care- 
ful man  on  the  ranch.  He  stayed  with  me,  and  did  such 
good  work  that  I  gave  him  his  liberty,  and  paid  him  wages. 
All  of  the  kindness  bestowed  upon  him  by  myself  and 
family  never  did  him  half  the  good  that  he  received  from 
my  anger.  His  is  the  only  instance  with  which  I  am  fa- 
miliar where  a  lift  from  the  toe  of  a  boot  made  a  man  out 
of  a  slave. 

The  other  herders  gave  me  almost  as  much  trouble  as 
Jim  and  Jose  Maria.  They  would  stone  the  calves  to  death, 
and  sell  the  meat  to  their  friends.  If  detected,  they  would 
say  the  little  animals  fell  from  the  rocks  and  were  killed. 
In  spite  of  all  reproof  or  punishment,  they  would  lie  and 
steal.  They  would  allow  the  cattle  to  get  away  and  go 


146 


TWO   CONTINENTS. 


home,  often  at  night,  when  they  would  destroy  and  over- 
run  the  crops.     The  six  herders  necessary  to  guard  the 
cattle  kept  my  temper  constantly  at  boiling  point.     I  hac 
continually  to  scold,  correct  and  discharge  men  —  only  t< 
replace  them  with  worse  ones.     Some  of  these  kept  wome] 
(not  always  wives)  and  children  about  them  for  employ- 
ment in  stealing.     They  lived  in  the  peon  houses,  and  they 
would  steal  milk  by  reaching  through  the  corral  and  milk- 
ing into  tin   cups.     One  fellow   cut  the   canvas  covering 
over  some  hogpens  to  get  some  stuff  to  make  him  a  pair 
of  pants.     Another  one  stole  my  pony  and  hid  it  in  som< 
brush  two  miles  away.     It  took  me  half  a  day  to  find  it, 
and  when  I  did,  the  man  came  with  two  others  to  meet  tin 
negro  with  me  and  myself,  and  fight  us  with  stilettoes. 
We  were  armed  with   revolvers,  and  upon  informing  the 
thieves  that  the  last  one  of  them  would  turn  his  toes  sky- 
ward if  they  interfered,  they  kindly  gave  me  possession  ol 
my  own  pony. 

One  peon  ran  off,  owing  me  twenty  dollars.  Some  time 
afterwards,  I  went  to  Las  Vegas  to  get  some  blacksmith- 
ing  done,  and  upon  entering  the  town  I  happened  to  see 
my  missing  peon.  Like  Barrella,  he  began  to  crawl  io 
the  dust  of  humility.  I  told  him  with  more  fervor  than 
politeness  that  he  was  worthless,  and  need  never  return. 
The  depth  of  my  feelings  or  of  my  language  must  have 
affected  him,  for  to  my  surprise,  the  next  morning  I  found 
him  at  work. 

Joan  Garcia,  Jim's  successor,  was  a  good  workman  when 
sober,  but  was  drunk  much  of  his  time.  His  home  was 
only  a  few  miles  distant,  and  his  wife,  a  fine-looking  Mex- 
ican woman,  kept  a  small  grocery  and  whisky  shop.  She 
asked  me  one  day,  when  I  had  gone  to  look  for  Joan,  how 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  147 

she  could  cure  him  of  his  terrible  taste  for  liquor.  It  was 
useless  to  try  to  teach  her  the  beauty  of  total  abstinence, 
so  I  said,  jokingly  : 

"  Put  a  five-gallon  keg  of  whisky  near  the  door,  and 
chain  him  to  the  door-post  with  a  dog-chain.  Put  a  tap  in 
the  keg  and  give  him  a  tin  cup.  I  daresay  he  will  soon 
be  cured  of  the  habit.'' 

I  had  no  idea  she  would  do  it.  But  Joan  was  a  little 
fellow  and  his  wife  a  powerful  woman,  and  she  tried  the 
suggested  remedy.  A  few  days  later  she  came  and  begged 
me  to  go  over  and  save  her  husband's  life.  I  was  a  little 
alarmed  at  the  turn  my  prescription  had  given  the  case, 
and  at  once  went  with  her.  He  was  dead  drunk,  chained 
to  the  door-post.  She  unfastened  the  chain,  and  I  helped 
her  to  put  him  to  bed. 

"Diablos  !"  she  said  ;   "whisky  no  bueno  [good]." 

Garcia,  during  the  two  years  I  afterwards  knew  him, 
would  not  taste  whisky.  He  came  back  to  work,  and  was 
a  faithful  and  honest  workman.  The  Keeley  cure  would 
have  been  nowhere  in  his  estimation  beside  a  dog-chain 
and  a  full  keg  of  whisky.  His  respect  for  me,  too,  seemed 
greatly  increased.  The  harsher  the  method  the  better 
effect  it  seemed  to  have  upon  Mexicans. 

Such  were  some  of  the  Mexicans  who  served  on  Don 
Aleandro's  ranch.  There  were  Americans  as  bad  or  worse 
under  my  authority.  I  once  sent  one  of  the  latter  with 
produce  to  Fort  Union.  He  was  not  back  at  milking-time, 
and  I  saddled  my  mule  and  went  in  pursuit  of  him.  Fail- 
ing to  find  him  at  the  Fort,  and  uneasy  about  the  cart  and 
oxen,  it  being  a  lovely  moonlight  night  I  searched  every 
nook  and  corner  in  and  near  the  Fort  for  the  man.  At 
last,  I  found  him  asleep  in  a  run,  but  it  was  a  long  time 


148  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

before  he  knew  where  he  was,  or  the  circumstances  that 
had  brought  him  there.     As  he  sat  up  in  the  moonlight 
he  was  a  pitiful  sight. 

"Kill  me  !"  he  said.     "I  am  of  no  account  to  anyon< 
I  must  have  been  drugged.      I  can  remember  nothing." 

He  roused  up  at  last  sufficiently  to  help  rne  find  tin 
cattle,  which  were  only  a  little  way  off.  I  coaxed  him  inl 
the  cart,  and,  when  he  had  started,  remounted  my  mul< 
In  a  few  moments  he  stopped,  and  tumbled  out  of  tin 
cart  on  the  prairie.  Patience  had  ceased  to  be  a  virtu< 
I  ordered  him  to  get  up.  He  began  to  fight,  and  w< 
struggled  together  until  he  let  me  go  and  fell  back,  whei 
I  left  him  on  the  prairie  in  the  moonlight,  taking  "soli< 
comfort."  He  came  in  in  the  morning  with  two  blacl 
eyes.  When  asked  where  he  got  them,  he  replied  gloomily, 
uMr.  Bull  knows." 

During  the  years  that  have  intervened  since  1859,  the 
changes  in  the  customs  and  characteristics  of  New  Mexico 
have  been  marked.  More  enterprising  people  have  laid 
the  Territory  off  in  counties,  and  placed  the  foundation 
for  a  great  State.  The  healthfulness  of  the  country,  the 
beauty  of  the  scenery,  and  the  advantages  of  soil  and 
climate,  cannot,  in  time,  fail  to  make  New  Mexico  a  noted 
member  of  the  sisterhood  of  States.  The  religious  system 
which  has  placed  such  an  incubus  upon  her  progress  is 
even  now  being  lifted,  ami  when  that  shall  have  been  ac- 
complished nothing  will  stand  in  the  way  of  her  advance- 
ment. 

I  found  my  little  daughter  a  great  help  to  my  wife,  and 
like  a  sunbeam  in  our  household.  She  could  talk  in  the 
Mexican  language,  scold  the  careless  workmen  while  she 
milked  nine  or  ten  cows  herself,  churn  and  care  for  butter 


LIFE  L\  NEW  Mi:XWO.  149 

like  a  dairy  maid,  and  ride  her  pony  like  a  native.  We 
had  no  schools,  no  churches,  no  society  outside  of  our 
home  for  her,  but  she  had  plenty  of  pets  and  books,  and 
was  as  happy  as  a  bird  in  her  new  home.  Dear  child  !  in 
all  the  long  years  she  has  never  changed  to  me.  Her 
sunny  sweetness  to  the  adopted  father  who  loved  her  as 
his  own  child  has  been  constant  throughout  the  changing 
seasons,  and  is  as  precious  to  him  to-day  as  when  on  her 
little  wild  Mexican  pony,  a  merry  child  of  eleven  years, 
beloved  by  all  who  knew  her,  she  flitted  over  the  prairies 
of  New  Mexico. 

In  the  summer  of  1859,  Mr.  A.  became  infatuated  with 
Colorado.  The  excitement  of  the  times  concerning  gold 
led  him  to  invest  heavily  in  the  fascinating  gold-digging 
business.  Leaving  me  in  charge  of  everything  on  the 
ranch,  he  returned  to  St.  Louis,  from  whence  he  wrote  me 
to  send  him  at  once  all  of  the  best  cattle  from  the  main 
herd,  and  two  well-fitted  wagon-masters.  He  invested  in 
a  machine  for  crushing  the  quartz,  had  it  hauled  overland 
from  St.  Louis,  went  with  the  train  to  Colorado,  and  lost 
thirty  thousand  dollars  in  the  gold-diggings.  Upon  his 
return,  his  ranch  was  all  the  property  that  he  had  left.  On 
the  ground  that  few  returned  from  the  gold-fields,  his  stock 
became  objects  of  booty  to  many  persons  who  hoped  he 
would  never  return.  It  was  actually  all  I  could  do  to  pre- 
vent a  Frenchman  from  driving  Mr.  A.'s  entire  herd  off  to 
California,  and  the  rest  of  his  property  had  to  be  as  jeal- 
ously watched  and  guarded. 

The  close  of  October  wound  up  the  dairy  business.  I 
sent  out  to  the  main  herd  by  Barrella  sixty-five  cows  and 
sixty-two  calves,  paid  and  discharged  the  unnecessary 
workmen,  most  of  whom  had  worked  all  summer  for  six  to 


150  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

eight  dollars  per  month,  and  summed  up  results.  We  hi 
made  about  eight  hundred  pounds  of  butter  and  five  hui 
dred  of  cheese  during  the  four  months  just  past.  Oi 
crops  had  not  paid  very  well.  The  oats  made  only  half 
crop,  but  the  ten  acres  of  fodder  sold  readily  at  Fort  Unioi 
for  thirty  dollars  per  ton.  We  had  two  hundred  and  fift; 
dollars'  worth  of  Mexican  corn  for  sale,  and  I  had  rain 
five  bushels  of  beardless  barley  for  brewing  purposes. 

In  November  it  began  raining,  and  such   a   ceaseh 
downpour  I  have  seldom  seen.     I  was  not  sure  but  that 
modern  Noah  would  be  needed  before  the  rain  was  ovei 
to  introduce  a  life-saving  service  for  our  rescue  from  the 
elements.     Our  adobe  house,  as  was  the  custom  there,  was 
covered  with  dry  dirt,  and  its  roof  was  surrounded  witl 
spouts.     These  had  been  dry  for  so  long  that  they  leak( 
and  the  constant  rain  played  havoc  with  the  adobe  wall 
and  dirt  roof.     The  whole  great  building  seemed  in  dangei 
of  dissolution.      It  took  us  some  time  to  repair  the  dam- 
ages, and  prevent  further  ones  from  the  same  source. 

I  now  prepared  for  the  brewing  business,  which  I  had  all 
summer  kept  in  mind.  With  Barrella's  assistance,  I  fitted 
up  a  fireplace  in  the  fandango  room,  put  a  boiler  of  Rus- 
sian iron  over  it  to  contain  the  boiling  liquid,  made  a 
square  chamber  along  half  of  the  fireplace  for  roasting  the 
malt,  (part  of  which  had  to  be  a  pale,  and  the  rest  a  dark 
brown,)  and  succeeded  in  brewing  excellent  porter.  At 
my  request,  my  wife  used  it  for  her  health  until  she  was 
completely  restored.  I  bottled  some  of  the  product,  and 
the  ladies  at  the  Fort  were  greatly  pleased  with  it. 

Early  in  December,  I  sought  the  commissary  and  asked 
him  what  he  would  give  me  for  my  fine  cabbages. 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  151 

"Make  them  into  kraut,"  he  answered,  "and  I  will  give 
you  a  dollar  a  gallon  for  it." 

I  made  a  hundred  gallons,  and  received  a  hundred 
dollars. 

"  You  're  a  public  benefactor,  Mr.  John  Bull,"  said  the 
commissary  as  he  received  it.  "Who  knows  how  many 
scorbutic  humors  you  have  prevented  Uncle  Sam's  soldiers 
from  suffering  ?  " 

I  took  him  at  the  same  time  a  hundred  head  of  cauli- 
flowers. The  commissary  presented  them  to  the  Governor 
at  Santa  Fe,  and  he  sent  me  fifty  cents  a  head  for  them. 
Of  all  my  experience  with  this  vegetable,  the  cauliflowers 
grown  in  New  Mexico  far  surpassed  the  products  of  any 
other  region. 

Captain  Morris,  who  had  been  stationed  at  Las  Vegas, 
came  to  the  Fort  that  winter,  and  he  paid  me  a  dollar  per 
pound  for  the  butter  we  had  packed,  some  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds. 

Christmas  Day  came  at  last,  and  I  looked  around  for 
some  means  of  pleasing  my  wife  and  child.  About  mid- 
way to  Las  Yegas  lived  an  American  who  owned  a  flour- 
and  saw-mill  and  a  dry-goods  store.  While  dealing  with 
him,  he  invited  me  to  bring  my  family  and  visit  himself  and 
wife  —  a  beautiful  Spanish  woman.  I  had  an  ambulance 
on  the  ranch,  and,  having  accepted  the  invitation,  my  peon 
harnessed  up  the  mules  and  we  left  home  to  take  Christmas 
dinner  with  my  new  acquaintance.  We  arrived  an  hour 
before  dinner,  and  were  warmly  welcomed  by  the  gentle- 
man and  his  charming  lady.  In  deference  to  her,  all  of 
the  courtesies  of  the  occasion  were  Spanish.  Excellent 
Espejo  wine  was  offered  us,  and  dinner  was  shortly  served. 

The  dinner  consisted  of  bread,   baked   in   the   conical 


152  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


ovens  of  the  time,  frijoles,  a  kind  of  blue  beans,  and  chili 
Colorado.     The  latter  was  a  popular  dish  among  Mexicans, 
and  consisted  of  a  very  hot,  peppery  mixture,  made  up  of 
red  peppers  and  chopped  kid's  flesh.     As  children  were 
not  then  known  as  "kids,"  the  compound  did  not  frightei 
Lizzie,  but  my  wife  made  her  dinner  on  beans  and  bread. 
I  enjoyed  the  chili  Colorado  greatly.    The  meal  was  served 
picnic  fashion — without  chairs  or  table.     Novelty  made 
up  for  everything  else  that  was  lacking.    We  had  expected 
roast  beef  and  plum  pudding,  but  really  enjoyed  our  un- 
expected  fare  immensely,  and  upon  our  return  we  wei 
loaded  with   rich   presents  by  the  lady,  who   seemed  t< 
have  an  unlimited  supply  of  rare  silk  and  satin  dresses. 

To  our  surprise,  only  a  few  weeks  later,  we  learned  that 
our  host  of  Christmas  Day  was  not  a  married  man,  an< 
the  beautiful  lady  was  only  the  hostess  for  the  time. 
Worse,  he  was  connected  with  horse-thieves,  and  came 
near  being  hung  by  a  mob  of  indignant  Mexicans  whose 
ponies  he  was  trying  to  smuggle  into  the  States.  He  had 
gone  as  far  as  Independence,  where  he  was  arrested  and 
lodged  in  jail.  But  after  eating  pepper  if  not  salt  in  his 
house,  we  could  not  help  but  wish  him  a  better  life. 

Our  next  holiday  expedition  was  to  the  town  of  Mora. 
The  scenery  of  the  drive  was  lovely.  The  Mora  river, 
ever  in  view,  wound  in  beautiful  curves,  the  lofty  mount- 
ains lifted  their  hoary  heads  into  the  blue  sky,  and  the 
sunshine  fell  in  white,  clear  light  over  all  the  scene.  As 
we  passed  through  the  picturesque  village  of  La  Quaver 
and  noted  the  piles  of  rocks  and  their  accompanying 
crosses,  it  was  like  a  glimpse  of  ancient  Spain.  Dozens  of 
burros,  laden  until  they  staggered,  passed  us.  We  pitied 
them  so,  for  when  they  fell  they  could  not  rise  with  their 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  153 

burdens  without  help.  My  wife  remarked  that  we  had 
either  been  carried  back  to  the  youth  of  time,  or  else  we 
lived  in  the  country  of  Balaam.  "  Surely,"  she  cried, 
"the  poor  brutes  are  just  ready  to  open  their  mouths  and 
speak." 

At  Mora  we  found  a  quaint  little  Catholic  church.  We 
went  in  to  the  services.  The  beauty  of  the  worship  com- 
mon to  this  religious  people  was  either  absent  that  day,  or 
else  my  ability  to  enjoy  it  had  not  accompanied  me.  It 
was  like  expecting  roast  beef  and  receiving  chili  Colorado. 
The  waiting  people  did  penance  on  their  knees  before 
their  padre  for  a  long  time  in  silence.  At  length,  still 
gazing  upon  their  statuesque  figures,  he  drank  all  the  wine 
before  him,  and  dismissed  all  but  two  culprits,  whose  sins, 
judging  from  the  expiation,  must  have  been  enormous. 
These  were  taken  out  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and 
provided  with  crosses  heavy  beyond  their  strength.  The 
padre  insisting,  they  started,  barefooted  and  bearing  the 
crosses,  up  the  mountain.  A  whip  was  plied  heavily  upon 
their  bare,  bleeding  backs,  and  blood  oozed  from  scratches 
on  their  feet.  The  most  of  the  crowd  went  back  to  their 
drinking  and  gambling,  and  we  turned  away  from  the 
scene.  Saddened  beyond  measure,  surprised  at  this  un- 
lovely pretense  at  religion,  wondering  if  Jesus'  death 
atoned  not  for  these,  we  turned  toward  home. 

The  padre  or  priest  in  this  service  possessed  a  great 
fascination  for  me.  Some  time  before  that  he  had  been 
superseded  by  another  priest.  The  old  padre  was  exceed- 
ingly jealous  of  his  rival,  and  when  the  new  priest  on  one 
occasion  drank  the  wine  as  he  blessed  the  congregation, 
he  swallowed  a  lot  of  poison.  As  he  fell  to  the  earthen 
floor  the  people  cried  out, 

"See  how  he  is  laden  with  our  manifold  sins  !" 
—11 


ON  TWO   CONTINENT*. 


- 

d">, 

ton 


The  old  padre  was  tried  for  murder,  and  finally  acquit- 
ted. After  a  short  suspension  he  was  reinstated ;  the 
people  feared  him  more  than  ever,  and  he  ruled  them 
with  a  rod  of  iron.  I  knew  him  well.  He  often  told  me 
of  his  innocence  and  the  thousands  of  dollars  he  said  it 
required  to  prove  the  same. 

In  February  I  received  word  that  a  lot  of  relief  hor 
were  at  the  Fort,  and  that  as  the  sutler,  Don  Aleandi 
was  gone,  they  would  pay  me  seventy-five  dollars  per  ton 
for  feed.  I  immediately  started  out  on  a  foraging  expe- 
dition. There  was  no  hay  for  sale  within  thirty  miles,  but 
by  searching  diligently  I  found  around  in  nooks  sev( 
jags  of  hay,  which  I  bought.  We  camped  without  fo< 
near  a  timbered  forest,  as  darkness  and  the  heavy 
prevented  our  reaching  home  that  night.  But  in 
morning,  I  reached  the  Fort  with  a  ton,  and  received  s( 
enty-five  dollars  for  it.  The  next  day,  with  two  yoke 
oxen,  we  passed  the  scene  where  on  the  previous  night 
had  guarded  the  cattle  from  the  wild  animals  of  the  forest, 
gathered  up  a  load  of  hay,  and  returned  to  the  Fort.  On 
the  way  home  some  cowardly  rascals  tried  to  stone  us,  but 
a  discharge  or  two  from  a  revolver  sent  them  screaming 
away.  The  third  load  we  bought  at  Ockata,  and  when  it 
was  delivered  I  received  three  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars  in  gold  for  my  hay.  I  mention  this  to  show  the 
difficulty  in  obtaining  supplies  for  the  outlying  military 
posts,  and  the  high  prices  paid  in  order  to  obtain  food  for 
the  soldiers  and  their  horses. 

The  experience  of  the  previous  spring  was  repeated  in 
the  year  1860.  Workmen  had  to  be  engaged  for  the  irri- 
gating, the  dairy,  and  the  main  herd  ;  seed  wheat,  at  three 
and  a  third  dollars  pur  bushel,  had  to  be  bought;  and 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  155 

wheat  sowed  broadcast  by  myself,  and  plowed  in  with 
turning -plows.  In  addition,  four  acres  of  peas  were 
planted  to  feed  the  large  herd  of  hogs,  and  a  fence  was 
built  to  protect  the  crops  from  the  carelessness  of  herders. 
Thirty  acres  of  land  were  cultivated  for  corn. 

In  England  the  "corn  laws"  mean  "wheat  laws,"  but 
in  America  we  call  maize  "corn, "and  the  Mexicans  had  a 
kind  of  maize  or  corn  which  did  well  in  its  native  soil. 
As  different  as  the  two  names,  were  the  methods  used 
then  and  now  of  planting  corn.  Instead  of  the  lister, 
throwing  open  a  trench  and  depositing  in  it  at  regular 
distances  the  grains  of  corn,  the  seed  was  planted  by  hand 
in  old-fashioned  cross-rows,  and  covered  with  hoes.  In 
addition  to  the  crops  mentioned,  I  planted  eight  acres  of 
the  California  beardless  barley,  the  yield  of  which  brought 
me  from  the  mail-drivers  two  hundred  dollars.  I  tried  no 
hotbeds  that  spring.  The  memory  of  my  early  products 
of  the  previous  year  being  put  on  ice  while  I  veiled  my 
eyes  with  a  tub,  was  sufficient  for  me  ;  but  I  had  a  large 
number  of  cabbage  and  cauliflower  plants,  which  prom- 
ised good  results. 

The  dairy  business  was  as  laborious  as  in  the  previous 
year ;  butter  only  brought,  however,  fifty  cents  per  pound, 
at  the  Fort,  but  cheese  always  sold  at  high  prices.  That 
year  we  sold  seven  hundred  pounds  of  butter  and  six  hun- 
dred of  cheese. 

There  was  a  demand  for  almost  everything  we  could 
produce  upon  the  ranch.  Even  the  volunteer  oats  among 
the  pea  crop,  when  pulled  up  by  the  roots  and  hauled  to 
the  Fort  for  feed  for  some  starving  horses  .just  brought 
from  the  States,  netted  thirty-five  dollars. 

The  weeds  grew  so  rapidly  in  this  climate  and  soil,  that 


156  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


it  required  many  extra  men  to  do  the  necessary  weeding, 
and  make  Don  Aleandro's  crops  acceptable  at  the  post. 
Some  of  these  employes,  like  those  of  the  last  year,  were 
not  to  be  trusted.  One  of  them  attempted  an  assault  upon 
me  for  removing  his  pony  from  the  Hungarian-grass,  and 
I  had  to  drive  the  man  off  with  a  revolver.  Fearing  the 
alcalde's  penalty  of  a  flogging  upon  the  bare  back  for  his 
offense,  he  escaped,  and  we  saw  him  no  more. 

I  had  employed  an  extra  cook  —  Mrs.  Brake,  Lizzie  and 
myself  all  being  busy  in  the  dairy ;  but  with  the  great 
press  of  work,  dinner  was  late  one  day.  True  to  their  cus- 
tom, when  a  Mexican  came  along  with  a  jug  of  whisky 
hired  men  soothed  their  waiting  appetites  with  firewa 
and  then  whiled  away  the  rest  of  the  time  with  a  free-f 
all  fight.  The  first  I  knew  of  the  affair  was  later  in 
day,  when  I  found  kind-hearted  Mrs.  Brake  binding  up 
broken  heads.  Indignant  beyond  measure  at  their  ca 
lessness  of  Don  Aleandro's  interests,  I  put  on  my  belt  and 
revolvers,  and  rode  my  mule  down  to  the  peon  houses. 
Here  I  found  a  general  jangle  of  wrangling  voices,  empty 
stomachs  and  broken  heads.  In  my  wrath,  I  drove  the 
whole  outfit  out  of  the  corral  and  down  to  the  field.  I  had 
not  eaten  my  own  dinner,  but  I  sat  on  my  mule,  revol 
in  hand  until  sundown,  and  made  them  work  for  life,  a 
which  they  had  to  milk  before  supper. 

After  the  weeding,  I  turned  my  attention  to  the  swine, 
and  found  that  my  Mexican  herder  had  sold  three  of  them 
and  used  the  money.  He  was  tried  before  the  alcalde, 
convicted  of  stealing,  and  punished  by  flogging.  I  was 
sorry  for  him,  and  resolved  to  keep  closer  count  in  the 
future.  A  superannuated  priest  then  took  charge  of  the 
stock,  but  the  loss  was  as  bad  as  before.  He  insisted  that 


had 

= 


LIFE  IN  NE 1 1 r  MEXICO.  157 

they  strayed  away  while  he  prayed.  I  would  not  have 
blamed  them  if  they  had.  He  had  to  be  dismissed.  I  in- 
quired for  him  afterwards,  and  was  told  that  he  became  so 
thin  after  the  discovery  of  his  stealing  was  made  that  he 
either  vanished  or  the  wolves  ate  him  as  they  had  lately 
done  Lizzie's  pony.  I  suggested  that  perhaps  he  had  died, 
but  the  Mexicans  shook  their  heads.  An  old  physician 
who  had  just  offered  me  his  practice  for  forty  dollars, 
said : 

"They  don't  die  in  this  healthy  climate,  unless  they  get 
killed.  Otherwise,  they  just  dry  up  and  vanish." 

The  process  of  threshing  wheat  in  those  times  was  as 
queer  as  other  customs  of  the  Mexicans.  After  my  ten 
acres  of  heavy  wheat  were  cut  with  sickles,  and  shocked,  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  grain  threshed.  Some 
Mexicans  came  with  a  gang  of  horses,  and  offered  to  do 
the  work  for  ten  dollars  in  gold,  and  I  gave  them  the  job. 
The  wheat  was  placed  in  the  center  of  a  circle.  The  horses, 
eight  or  ten  in  number,  were  put  in  the  ring,  and  two 
Mexicans  drove  them  around  with  the  heavy  flails  which 
shelled  out  the  wheat.  So  cruelly  would  they  beat  the 
poor  horses  that  sometimes  the  legs  of  the  animals  were 
broken.  There  were  no  winnowing-machines  to  clean  the 
wheat.  We  made  a  sieve  of  rawhide,  six  or  seven  feet 
long,  and  filled  it  with  round,  smooth  holes.  Two  stout 
Mexicans  sifted  the  wheat  through,  and  another  sacked  it 
up  ready  for  the  granary  or  the  market.  I  lost  twenty-five 
bushels  of  this  expensive  grain  by  trusting  Pitts,  an  ex- 
commissary  sergeant,  to  take  it  to  the  mill  at  Las  Yegas. 
He  got  drunk  and  peddled  it  all  out,  and  spent  the  money 
for  whisky. 

Hay  harvest  came  with  October,  and  a  negro,  Jim  Wa- 


158  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

ters,  said  he  knew  of  an  old  grass-mower  standing  out  in 
the  open  air  some  distance  away. 

"Take  a  span  of  mules,  Jim,  and  bring  it  home,"  I  said. 

"There  is  a  grindstone  there,  massa,"  he  said;  "we 
must  have  that  too." 

"How  heavy  is  it,  Jim?  " 

"About  two  hundred." 

"Oh,  no,  Jim  —  not  so  large  as  that." 

"  By  golly  it  is ;  and  Boss,  you  must  get  a  donkey  to 
fetch  it  in." 

"Why,  Jim,"  I  answered,  "how  can  it  be  loaded  on  a 
burro,  if  it  weighs  two  hundred  pounds  ? " 

"You  jes' send  Olean,"  answered  Jim;  "he  know  how 
to  fix  it  on." 

Olean  was  a  powerful  Mexican.  I  had  seen  him  hold 
Don  Aleandro's  fine  Kentucky  bull  by  the  horns  until  he 
twisted  the  animal  down.  I  did  not  doubt  his  strength, 
but  I  was  still  skeptical. 

"How  in  the  Sam  Hill  can  a  man  put  a  two-hundred- 
pound  weight  on  a  burro,  and  travel  with  it  for  thirty 
miles  over  a  rough  road  ?  " 

"Dunno  Sam  Hill,"  said  Jim,  showing  his  white  teeth 
with  a  grin,  "but  Olean  can  do  it." 

"I'll  give  him  an  extra  dollar  if  he  does,"  I  said. 

Two  days  later,  Olean  and  Jim  appeared  in  the  dairy- 
room.  Olean  demanded  his  dollar.  The  mowing-machine 
was  accompanied  by  the  donkey  carrying  the  grindstone. 
The  man  would  not  unload,  though,  until  I  gave  him  the 
dollar,  and  I  went  out  to  see  how  he  had  managed  the 
affair.  I  laughed  as  heartily  as  they  did  at  the  Mexican's 
ingenuity.  He  had  stolen  some  stout  canvas  from  my 
hogpens,  made  a  sort  of  bag,  and  loaded  one  side  with  a 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  159 

kind  of  rick  on  which  he  rode,  and  the  other  with  the 
grindstone.  My  ignorant  mind  was  enlightened.  I  de- 
clared he  had  fairly  won  the  dollar. 

The  grass,  a  rather  light  crop,  was  now  hauled  to  the 
Fort  and  sold,  and  the  pea  crop  harvested  for  fattening 
the  hogs ;  the  cauliflowers  were  again  sold  to  Governor 
Kencher,  at  fifty  cents  a  head,  and  the  cabbage  sold  in 
kraut  at  a  dollar  a  gallon.  The  peons  were  given  their 
liberty,  the  cows  sent  to  the  main  herd,  and  the  work  of 
the  year  rounded  up. 

In  November,  word  reached  the  Fort  that  the  Navajo 
Indians,  many  thousand  strong,  were  on  the  war-path. 
The  partially-civilized  Utes  hastened  to  the  Fort  for  pro- 
tection, and  the  white  settlers  at  least  were  filled  with  the 
gloomiest  apprehensions.  Pickets  were  stationed  around 
Fort  Union,  and  the  outside  rancheros  were  cautioned  to 
be  constantly  on  the  alert,  to  bar  every  entrance  to  their 
homes,  and  to  forward  to  the  Fort  any  information  they 
might  have  of  Indian  movements.  I  was  obliged  to  go 
over  the  lonesome  road  to  the  post  very  often,  and  one 
night  was  followed  by  a  gang  of  Indians  or  disguised 
Mexicans.  They  were  on  foot,  and  were  near  me  before 
I  saw  them  ;  and  as  they  began  to  throw  stones  at  me,  I 
fired  four  shots  at  them,  and  galloped  homeward.  My 
wife  did  not  know  of  it,  and  in  a  few  days  the  alarm  died 
away  without  harm  to  anyone. 

A  few  days  later,  news  was  brought  to  Colonel  Critten- 
den,  in  command  at  the  Fort,  that  some  Indians  had  routed 
the  settlers  and  burnt  their  homes,  at  a  place  where  Raton 
now  stands.  The  defenseless  citizens  were  left  to  perish 
by  starvation.  Colonel  Crittenden  was  so  enraged  that  he 
ordered  all  hostile  Indians  that  could  be  found  —  men, 


160  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 


women,  and  children  —  massacred.  Their  horses,  bridles, 
saddles,  robes,  etc.,  were  to  be  brought  as  spoils  to  the 
Fort,  and  the  soldiers  taking  them  could  retain  them  as 
perquisites. 

I  happened  to  be  at  the  Fort  when  the  soldiers  arrived 
with  their  booty.  A  sergeant  of  my  acquaintance  said  to 
me  : 

"See  here,  Brake  —  here  is  a  fine  mare.  I  shot  a  chief 
and  took  her  for  my  own,  as  per  order.  This  bridle  and 
saddle  were  with  her:  ain't  they  fine?  And  look  here." 

He  exhibited  a  wreath  of  twelve  beaten  silver  dollars, 
set  about  three  inches  apart  on  a  piece  of  silken  material, 
and  ornamented  with  beads  of  every  color  of  the  rainbow. 
At  one  side  of  the  wreath  was  a  woman's  scalp  with  a  tuft 
of  lovely  auburn  hair  nicely  wrapped  in  red  silk.  It  was 
a  curious  trophy,  but  strange  to  say  sold,  I  was  afterwards 
told,  for  a  hundred-dollar  bill. 

I  bought  the  mare,  and  Lizzie  used  to  ride  her.  The 
animal  had  been  trained  to  walk  backward  as  well  as  for- 
ward, and  would  do  so  with  my  little  daughter  upon  her 
back.  I  took  the  mare  to  Kansas  with  me  later,  but  a 
Frenchman  who  worked  for  me  during  the  war  stole  the 
valuable  and  beautiful  creature. 

Christmas  Day  found  us  still  away  from  schools  and 
churches,  and  with  only  comparative  strangers  to  enjoy 
our  hospitality.  But  my  dear  wife,  remembering  that  it 
was  our  wedding  anniversary,  made  one  of  her  famous 
plum-puddings,  baked  us  some  bread  and  pies  in  the  con- 
ical oven,  and  roasted  a  fine  joint  of  beef,  which  she  served 
with  potatoes  and  cauliflowers.  A  bottle  of  home-made 
wine  finished  our  repast.  A  kind-hearted  (iorman  neigh- 
bor, Sefior  Weber,  an  old  freighter  across  the  plains,  was 


LIFE  IN  NEW  MEXICO.  161 

present,  and  sang  a  German  song.  Christmas  cheer  was 
not  lacking  although  we  were  far  away  from  American 
civilization. 

The  thunder  of  Civil  War  was  heard  even  in  this  far 
corner  of  the  Kepublic,  and  its  cloud  was  threatening  to 
burst  at  any  time  upon  our  devoted  country.  I  decided 
to  return  to  the  States  as  soon  as  possible,  and  began  to 
make  my  preparations  accordingly.  The  crops  were  sold, 
the  cheese  and  butter  put  in  the  sutler's  hands,  my  suc- 
cessor's comfort  provided  for,  my  resignation  accepted  by 
Mr.  A.,  who  had  returned  from  Colorado,  and  a  successor 
appointed,  to  whom  I  gave  the  inventory  of  the  goods  on 
hand.  These  were  mostly  articles  retained  for  consump- 
tion on  the  ranch,  consisting  of  pickled  pork,  salt  hams 
and  shoulders,  kraut,  buckwheat,  Hungarian-grass  seed, 
wheat,  fat  hogs,  shoats,  and  several  tons  of  ice  —  amounting 
in  all  to  over  three  hundred  dollars.  Don  Aleandro  sent 
my  successor  with  a  friendly  order  requesting  me  upon 
leaving  to  put  all  of  the  ranch  property  in  the  hands  of  the 
bearer  of  the  order.  Very  glad  indeed  was  I  of  the  release 
from  the  cares  of  my  situation.  It  was  yet  a  month  until 
the  first  of  March,  when  we  were  to  start  for  the  States, 
and  we  moved  into  a  small  adobe  building  until  we  could 
make  our  preparations  for  departure. 

I  intended  to  stop  in  Kansas  for  a  short  time,  and  then 
go  on  to  Minnesota  to  take  possession  of  my  property.  I 
accordingly  gathered  together  for  the  expedition,  an  outfit 
consisting  of  an  ambulance,  the  chief's  mare,  an  old  gray 
mare,  and  two  ponies.  After  settling  with  the  contractor 
at  the  Fort,  I  found  due  me  on  my  sub-contract  four  hun- 
dred dollars.  I  did  not  like  to  carry  it  with  me,  and  I  in- 
trusted it  to  Senor  Weber,  who  freighted  goods  across  the 


162  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

plains  each  year.  He,  fearing  depredations  from  so-called 
"  Jajhawkers,"  did  not  follow  me  for  two  years,  and  to 
the  fact  that  I  stayed  in  Kansas  until  I  could  receive  this 
money,  I  may  attribute  my  permanent  settlement  in  that 
State. 

The  first  of  March,  1861,  was  a  gala-day  to  us.  We  felt 
happy  at  the  prospect  of  returning  to  civilization,  even 
though  we  had  to  cross  a  part  of  the  Great  American 
Desert  in  order  to  reach  it.  A  late  snow-fall  had  melted, 
and  the  grass  was  springing  up  rapidly.  The  chief's  mare 
and  Lizzie's  pony  were  packed,  and  all  of  our  other  sup- 
plies loaded  in  the  ambulance.  It  was  a  fearfully  windy 
day,  and  we  only  reached  Fort  Union.  The  night  was  a 
terrible  one,  and  there  was  no  sleep  for  us  through  its 
awful  hours.  I  did  not  dare  to  leave  the  ambulance,  and 
the  horses  could  not  be  unloaded,  for  I  could  not  even  un- 
fasten them  for  the  force  of  the  storm.  My  faithful  dog 
watched  with  me  all  the  night,  and  at  last  the  light  of 
dawn  shone  in  the  east,  the  wind  fell  somewhat,  and  with 
reviving  courage  we  faced  toward  our  far-off  home  in  Min- 
nesota. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  RETURN  TRIP. 

There  is  something  invigorating  in  the  thought  of  re- 
turning to  long-absent  friends,  even  though  hosts  of  diffi- 
culties lie  in  the  way ;  and,  anxious  to  proceed,  before  we 
camped  for  breakfast  that  morning  we  were  fifteen  miles 
on  our  way  toward  the  Raton  mountains.  Here  we  un- 
loaded, and  rested  our  much-fatigued  horses,  and  then 
journeyed  on  to  Ockata,  where  there  was  a  good  camp- 
ing-place. I  had  decided  to  return  by  a  different  route 
than  that  taken  by  Don  Aleandro  in  our  trip  to  New 
Mexico.  We  would  go  through  Colorado  into  Kansas, 
and  strike  the  other  trail  at  the  Arkansas  river. 

At  Ockata  had  occurred  Indian  troubles,  but  the  Indians 
had  been  so  severely  punished  by  the  troops  that  I  felt 
little  apprehension  of  danger,  although  I  had  with  me  the 
mare  bought  from  the  sergeant.  It  was  a  beautiful  night, 
and  the  weary  horses,  as  well  as  ourselves,  enjoyed  a  good 
night's  rest  without  disturbance. 

We  had  our  first  wild  meat  at  the  Cedars,  our  next 
stopping-place,  now  a  point  in  Colorado.  With  my  flint- 
lock gun  I  shot  a  wild-goose  which  weighed,  when  dressed, 
ten  pounds.  Here  we  met  an  old  man  and  his  son  who 
wanted  to  go  to  the  States.  The  father  decided  to  remain 
where  he  was,  but  gave  us  the  boy  —  a  stout  Mexican  - 
with  his  blessing.  We  found  him  quite  an  addition  to 
our  small  company,  and  it  was  some  time  before  we  re- 
gretted having  accepted  the  charge. 

(163) 


164  0^  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

I  had  previously  made  an  agreement  to  meet  here  a 
man  named  Inman,  and  his  family,  also  on  their  way  east- 
ward. As  he  had  two  yoke  of  oxen  and  only  one  wagon, 
he  had  agreed  to  take  a  wagon  for  me,  and  some  goods 
which  I  could  not  carry  in  the  ambulance.  We  were  to 
indicate  our  proximity  by  special  marks,  but  I  found  none 
of  these ;  and  when  I  reached  the  Cedars,  I  learned  that 
they  had  passed  on  without  leaving  any  message. 

I  knew  the  marks  left  by  my  wagon-tires,  and  I  tracked 
my  treacherous  acquaintance  for  many  miles.  From  the 
direction  taken  I  was  satisfied  that  he  meant  to  get  to  the 
Platte  road,  which  diverged  from  the  main  road  some 
miles  ahead,  and  go  to  Pike's  Peak.  I  learned  from  my 
new  boy  that  two  loaded  wagons  had  passed  about  ten 
hours  before  my  arrival.  They  had  a  lot  of  ponies  and 
cattle,  and  seemed  in  a  hurry. 

To  lose  my  trunk  of  valuables  was  out  of  the  question, 
and  I  resolved  to  follow  and  overtake  the  fellow  if  it  cost 
me  a  horse.  So,  very  early  the  next  morning,  we  started 
in  his  pursuit,  traveled  forty  miles  with  only  a  two-hours 
halt  at  noon,  and  arrived  at  midnight  at  the  Red  river 
crossing.  We  could  be  only  about  twenty  miles  in  the 
rear  of  the  pursued.  We  were  not  so  fortunate  the  next 
day,  as  I  stopped  to  help  a  traveler's  oxen  out  of  a  mud- 
hole.  But  the  grass  along  the  river  refreshed  the  horses, 
the  delay  rested  my  wife  and  daughter,  and  we  were  quite 
hopeful  now  of  success.  Ten  miles  farther  on  we  came 
to  a  smouldering  camp-fire.  Beside  it  lay  a  pipe  which  I 
recognized  as  belonging  to  the  escaping  man.  Confident 
now  of  being  on  the  right  track,  and  that  our  quarry  was 
not  far  ahead,  we  drove  off  as  merrily  as  did  ever  the 


THE  RETURN  TRIP.  165 

racers  after  the  Queen's  stag  in  my  old  English  experi- 
ence. 

In  the  passes  of  the  Raton  mountains,  we  heard  the 
rattling  of  wagons  ahead  of  us,  and  the  chase  became 
positively  exciting.  The  stream  had  to  be  crossed  and 
recrossed,  and  it  constantly  carried  to  us  the  echo  of  the 
wagons.  It  was  as  if  nature  sympathized  with  us,  and, 
like  a  great  whispering-gallery,  held  the  echo  of  the  guilty 
tread  of  the  criminals  fast  until  it  was  breathed  into  our 
ears.  At  last  the  sounds  ceased,  night  fell,  and  we  knew 
they  had  gone  into  camp. 

In  the  morning,  when  the  echoes  again  reverberated 
through  the  mountain  passes,  we  resumed  the  trail.  We 
were  near  enough  now  to  hear  the  voices  of  the  women, 
and  the  tones  of  Inman,  who  was  swearing  roundly  at  his 
oxen,  but  I  did  not  wish  them  to  see  us  until  we  were 
through  the  mountains :  the  diverging  roads  were  a  few 
miles  beyond,  and  we  could  easily  overtake  them  before 
they  reached  that  point.  Not  wishing  them  yet  to  know 
that  we  were  in  pursuit,  when  we  came  to  a  ledge  of  rock 
over  fifteen  inches  high  that  must  be  descended,  I  hesitated 
to  make  the  necessary  noise  for  the  descent.  There  hap- 
pened however  to  be  timber  near  at  hand,  and  a  stout  pole 
run  through  the  hind  wheels  of  the  ambulance  let  it  slide 
down  the  ledge  with  little  noise  and  no  damage.  A  little 
farther  on  we  met  the  mail.  Some  of  the  men  knew  me, 
and  yelled  out  as  they  passed : 

"Going  home,  Brake?     Company  ahead  !  " 

We  now  hurried  forward,  my  wife  anxious  over  a  pros- 
pective scene,  restless  Lizzie  amusing  herself  by  counting 
the  times  we  crossed  the  mountain  stream. 


166  0^  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

"One  hundred  and  twenty  times !"  she  announced  as 
we  emerged  from  the  mountains. 

Five  miles  farther  we  reached  the  cross-roads.  To  my 
supreme  disappointment,  there  was  no  one  in  sight.  We 
had  apparently  lost  the  game.  We  camped  in  the  triangle 
of  the  roads,  and  I  waited  for  them  to  make  a  fire.  At 
last,  ahead  of  us  a  small  smoke  arose  and  mingled  with 
the  atmosphere  over  their  camp.  Then  I  sprang  upon 
the  Indian  chief's  mare  and  headed  her  toward  Inman's 
camp.  I  was  cool  enough,  for  all  my  passion,  but  I  was 
determined  to  have  my  property  or  know  the  reason.  I 
looked  to  my  revolvers  and  carried  with  me  a  bowie-knife. 
The  noble  animal  I  rode  seemed  to  understand  that  I  was 
on  the  war-path,  and  to  exult  in  my  rage.  Swift  and 
straight  as  an  arrow  the  fleet-limbed  creature  carried  me 
into  the  midst  of  the  enemy's  camp,  where  she  paused, 
and  stood  like  a  statue  while  I  vented  my  wrath  upon  the 
false  friend  who  had  decamped  with  my  property. 

I  hope  I  may  be  pardoned  for  the  classical  language 
I  flung  at  Inman.  Kemember,  I  had  been  away  from 
churches  for  years,  I  was  beyond  the  bounds  of  conven- 
tionalism, and  even  my  wife  and  child  were  not  within 
hearing. 

"What  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  earth  and  hell,"  I 
shouted,  "do  you  mean  to  do  on  the  Platte  road  (  If 
you  don't  turn  your  face  away  from  Pike's  Peak  and 
come  back  to  the  road  to  the  States,  there  will  be  blood 
in  your  accursed  camp  ! " 

Inman  was  surprised.  lie  had  not  dreamed  that  I  was 
near,  and  in  his  excitement  he  stammered  out  : 

"We  have  lost  our  road;  we  did  not  know  which  to 
take." 


THE  RETURN  TRIP.  107 

"Then  come  into  it  at  once,"  I  said,  "and  prove  your- 
self worthy  of  confidence." 

Inman  consulted  with  a  fellow  whom  I  recognized  as  a 
discharged  herder  of  mine,  and  a  lover  of  Inman 's  daugh- 
ter. While  they  were  talking  I  called  the  pretty  girl  to 
me,  and  persuaded  her  to  go  over  to  my  camp  and  see 
my  daughter.  She  consented,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
whole  outfit  had  turned  and  driven  back  to  the  cross-roads. 

They  had  been  engaged  in  cutting  up  a  freshly-butch- 
ered steer,  and  I  learned  from  the  herder  that  this  steer 
was  driven  from  New  Mexico,  and  that  they  were  not 
fleeing  from  me,  but  were  afraid  of  pursuit  on  account  of 
the  animal,  which  until  now  they  had  not  dared  take 
time  to  kill.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  just  missed  losing 
my  property.  My  wife  was  too  nervous  and  worn  out  to 
be  able  to  endure  the  rough  scenes  of  a  general  camp. 
We  made  a  fire  to  ourselves,  and  after  thus  seceding  had 
the  satisfaction  of  hearing  our  forced  neighbors  calling 
us  "secessionists."  We  felt  much  better  content  alone. 
There  were  two  families  of  them.  A  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bow 
had  joined  the  Inmans  in  New  Mexico.  They  had  three 
cows,  a  pony,  and  a  yoke  of  oxen  ;  the  others  had  two 
yoke  of  oxen,  two  steers,  a  pony,  and  my  wagon.  With 
my  outfit  we  had  quite  a  number  of  loose  animals,  which 
my  Mexican  boy  now  drove.  He  was  relieved  occasion- 
ally by  the  Inman  children,  of  whom  there  were  six,  and 
he  did  not  have  to  work  very  steadily ;  but,  true  to  his 
native  disposition,  he  began  soon  to  weary  in  well-doing. 

One  moonlight  night,  my  wife,  ever  watchful,  screamed 
out  my  name.  I  awoke.  Everything  was  still,  but  she 
told  me  that  as  she  looked  from  the  carriage  at  the  bright 
night,  she  saw  the  Mexican  sharpen  his  knife  and  start 


168  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

toward  the  vehicle  under  which  I  was  sleeping.  At  the 
sound  of  her  voice,  he  slunk  back  to  his  shelter  and  pre- 
tended to  be  asleep.  We  were  satisfied  now  that  he 
meant  to  kill  us  and  take  the  team  back  to  New  Mexico. 
His  actions  grew  daily  more  suspicious.  Already  travel- 
ing (although  we  formed  a  distinct  and  separate  party) 
with  a  band  of  thieves,  we  were  far  from  feeling  secure. 
It  was  therefore  with  real  pleasure  that  we  learned,  one 
morning,  that  our  free  gift  was  no  longer  our  property. 
He  had  fled  in  the  night  —  perhaps  fearing  that  we  might 
wish  to  detain  him. 

Meanwhile,  we  kept  company  with  the  Inmans  —  not 
from  choice,  but  necessity.  They  had  my  property ;  I 
could  not  carry  it.  Inman,  who  was  a  sort  of  bully,  pre- 
tended to  "boss"  the  whole  cavalcade,  and,  making  a 
virtue  of  necessity,  we  kept  our  opinions  to  ourselves, 
along  with  our  fire  and  our  housekeeping. 

One  evening  as  we  passed  a  whisky-shanty,  the  "boss" 
entered  and  filled  up  on  corn-juice.  He  came  out  ready 
for  emergencies.  A  few  miles  farther  presented  an  oppor- 
tunity. 

"Halt!  "  he  shouted. 

We  all  stopped.  Near  by,  grazing  quietly  in  a  grassy 
hollow,  was  a  fine  yoke  of  oxen.  The  "boss"  shortly 
after  drove  them  up  to  the  wagons. 

"How's  that  for  a  prize?  "  he  called  out,  as  he  drew 
near. 

Behind  the  wagon  he  drove  he  had  tied  some  extra 
yokes.  He  did  not  stop  to  consult  Mr.  Bow  or  myself, 
but  put  one  of  these  yokes  on  the  oxen. 

"These  'ere  oxen  is  mine,"  he  informed  us.  "They  're 
a  booty.  Some  wagon  train  has  lost  'em." 


THE  RETURN  TRIP.  169 

Jane,  his  pretty  daughter,  chimed  in  with : 

"Pa,  when  you  sell  'em,  I'm  goin'  ter  hev  a  silk  dress." 

"  'N  me  a  suit  of  clothes,"  said  the  eldest  boy. 

Every  member  of  the  family  laid  claim  to  an  apartment 
in  the  air-castle  to  be  built  by  the  proceeds  of  the  sale  of 
the  "  booty." 

The  uboss"  unhitched  his  oxen,  and  put  the  new  ones 
to  the  wagon.  Then  he  came  to  me. 

"Now,  Brake,"  he  said,  in  an  expostulatory  tone, 
"we've  got  a  strong  team.  Take  yer  plugs  out,  and  tie 
the  tongue  of  yer  carriage  to  the  wagon.  You  can  jes' 
set  thai*  and  be  happy  all  the  rest  of  the  way." 

"And  be  a  party  to  a  theft,"  I  answered.  "No,  thank 
you;  we  are  now  very  comfortable." 

We  traveled  thirty  miles  that  day  before  Inman  would 
stop.  At  last  we  camped  in  a  grassy  hollow,  and  the  cat- 
tle and  horses  were  turned  out  to  graze. 

Here  the  women  busied  themselves  with  patching,  wash- 
ing, and  baking.  Such  an  amount  of  work  those  women 
seemed  to  have  on  hand  !  By  our  single  fire,  my  wife  and 
I  agreed  that  the  protracted  delay  of  a  day  and  a  half  was 
either  to  make  us  so  tired  we  would  go  on  without  the 
"boss's"  gang,  or  else  to  hide  here  until  the  owner  of 
the  oxen  passed  the  camp.  We  decided  to  stay  by  our 
"stuff." 

About  two  o'clock  the  next  day,  my  wife  called  my  at- 
tention to  a  man  who  had  just  come  to  the  camp  and  asked 
Mrs.  Inman  for  a  loaf  of  bread.  He  said  he  was  carrying 
a  dispatch  to  Fort  Wise  ;  that  he  had  a  rifle  to  protect  him 
from  Indians,  but  was  out  of  bread  and  had  to  buy  a  loaf. 
My  wife,  with  her  usual  quick  intuition,  said  : 

—12 


170  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

"Depend  upon  it,  he  carries  no  dispatch.  Look  out  for 
your  Indian  mare.  I  am  sure  there  is  some  mischief 
brewing." 

My  wife's  fears  filled  me  with  apprehensions.  I  knew 
the  summary  justice  dealt  out  to  law-breakers  in  those  un- 
settled regions,  and  that  we  would  in  all  probability  be 
unable  to  prove  our  non-complicity  in  the  affair  of  the 
oxen,  if  trouble  arose.  But  we  tried  to  make  the  best  of 
the  circumstances  until  we  could  get  possession  of  our 
property,  and  lay  down  to  rest  as  usual. 

That  night  my  faithful  dog  howled  fearfully,  and  when 
we  went  out  to  see  what  was  wrong,  every  hoof  and  horn 
belonging  to  our  traveling  companions  had  been  driven 
off,  except  the  two  ponies.  Not  one  of  my  animals  was 
molested.  The  owner  of  the  oxen  had  trailed  them,  hid 
his  men  in  the  mountains  until  night,  bought  a  loaf  of 
bread  and  fed  them,  and  in  the  darkness,  in  retaliation  for 
the  theft,  driven  off  the  animals.  While  in  the  camp,  he 
had  satisfied  himself  that  we  had  been  no  party  to  the 
crime,  and  had  not  disturbed  our  property.  The  advan- 
tage of  our  having  kept  a  separate  camp  was  now  very 
apparent.  They  probably  thought  the  two  ponies  were 
mine.  I  went  up  to  Inman  and  asked  him  what  he  thought 
of  the  matter. 

"Indians,"  he  said,  "Indians  have  run  off  with  all  of 
our  stock." 

"Indians  would  have  taken  mine  as  well,"  I  answered. 
"  Besides,  I  rode  out  and  examined  the  ground,  and  found 
the  tracks  of  American  horses.  The  thieves  are  the  right- 
ful owners  of  the  stolen  oxen.  You  have  brought  this 
upon  yourself.  Now  be  a  man.  Ride  after  these  men, 


THE  RETURN  TRIP.  171 

overtake  them,  make  reparation  and  secure  your  stock  be- 
fore they  escape." 

"I  cannot,  I  cannot,"  was  all  he  would  say. 

"  Then  your  family,  your  friends,  the  whole  company 
must  suffer  the  consequences.  There  is  no  alternative." 

Like  a  childish  coward,  the  great  bully  broke  down  and 
cried.  The  despairing  women  and  children  wept,  and  the 
hungry  baby,  ignorant  of  the  fate  of  the  cow  whose  milk 
she  drank,  screamed  in  sympathy.  The  whole  outfit 
seemed  about  to  be  dissolved  in  tears. 

uTake  us  yourself,"  cried  one.  uGo  after  the  cattle 
and  bring  them  back,"  cried  another. 

"There  are  no  Indians  nearer  than  Fort  Wise,"  I  in- 
sisted. uThe  forces  from  Fort  Union  routed  them,  months 
ago.  The  thieves  are  white  men,  I  tell  you.  You  robbed 
them  —  face  your  own  work." 

"  I  cannot  face  them  ;  they  would  kill  me.  You  would 
be  safe  enough.  Won't  you  go?  " 

I  looked  down  at  the  sobbing  group. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "for  the  sake  of  these  poor  women  and 
children,  I  will  go.  Have  your  hired  man,  Robert,  go 
with  me.  He  can  ride  the  black  pony,  and  I  will  ride  my 
daughter's  mustang." 

We  started  without  breakfast.  We  expected  soon  to 
overtake  the  men  with  the  cattle,  and  return  in  time  for 
our  morning  meal.  But  hour  after  hour  passed,  and  al- 
though we  kept  their  track  without  difficulty,  we  saw  noth- 
ing of  them.  Fifteen  miles  from  the  camp  we  overtook 
one  of  the  oxen,  and  a  little  further  another.  They  had 
grown  lame  and  were  left  behind.  Full  thirty  miles  from 
our  starting-point  we  overtook  the  men  with  the  balance  of 
the  stock  at  a  watering-place  known  as  "Rocky  Hollow." 


172  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

This  spot  was  close  by  a  copse  of  timber,  and  the  rocks 
hid  numerous  caverns  and  places  of  ambush ;  from  these 
many  a  traveler  had  been  dispatched,  and  justice  seldom 
found  a  criminal  who  here  took  refuge.  We  rested  awhile 
and  examined  our  firearms.  We  had  nothing  to  eat,  so  we 
chewed  the  cud  of  imagination  and  awaited  developments. 
After  a  long  time,  Robert  saw  a  man  steal  by  a  rock.  He 
whispered  to  me : 

"There  is  the  white  man  who  came  yesterday  to  our 
camp.  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  the  cattle  are  here." 

A  moment  later,  he  whispered  again. 

"There,  he  is  passing  the  second  time." 

Robert  was  an  ex-soldier,  and  reckless.  In  an  instant 
he  had  brought  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and  was  about  to 
discharge  it  at  the  man.  Our  lives  would  have  paid  the 
forfeit. 

"  Don't  shoot,"  I  said  quickly. 

"Why? "  he  asked,  bringing  down  his  gun. 

"You  are  foolhardy,"  I  said  ;  "how  do  you  know  but 
that  there  are  a  number  of  the  men?  What  good  would 
it  do  to  shoot  one  man  (  " 

We  waited  some  time  longer,  and  at  last  saw  the  cattle 
being  driven  into  the  road  by  four  armed  men.  Robert's 
bravery  deserted  him. 

"We  are  done  for,"  he  said;  "what  could  we  do  with 
four  men  (  " 

"I  am  not  going  back  without  the  cattle,"  I  answered. 
"Let  us  follow  them." 

I  led  the  way,  Robert  slinking  behind  me  as  if  he  was 
the  thief  instead  of  the  men  he  was  advancing  to  meet. 
When  we  were  within  speaking  distance,  I  laid  my  rifle 
down  before  me.  Robert  did  the  same,  but  he  was  trem- 


THE  RETURN  TRIP.  173 

bling  so  that  his  hands  shook.  He  said  afterwards  that  it 
was  a  wonder  the  gun  did  not  go  off  from  careless  handling 
and  kill  its  owner.  Two  of  the  men  turned  the  side  of 
their  horses  to  us  and  stood  by  them,  with  the  muzzles  of 
two  very  interesting  guns  toward  us.  I  sang  out  to  them 
as  I  approached : 

"What  is  wrong?  Give  us  an  explanation.  If  an  in- 
jury has  been  done  you,  we  will  give  you  satisfaction." 

"Our  yoke  of  oxen  was  stolen,"  said  one  of  the  men. 
"  We  wanted  revenge,  and  pay  for  the  trouble  caused  us." 

"Neither  of  us  had  any  hand  in  stealing  the  oxen,  nor 
do  the  cattle  you  have  with  you  belong  to  us.  We  are 
most  sorry  that  you  should  have  been  robbed,  but  the  man 
upon  whom  you  are  taking  revenge  is  very  poor.  He  has 
a  large  family,  and  a  little  baby  is  crying  now  because  it 
is  hungry  and  there  is  nothing  for  it  to  eat." 

"He  should  n't  have  stolen  the  oxen,"  said  the  man. 

"Granted,"  I  answered;  "but  he  claims  that  he  took 
them  up  as  strays.  You  did  not  say  they  were  yours  when 
you  were  at  the  camp.  How  do  you  know  he  meant  to 
steal  them?" 

"Well,"  said  one,  "all  we  want  is  satisfaction." 

"What  will  satisfy  you?"  I  asked.  "What  will  you 
take  and  release  the  stock?" 

"Two  cows,"  was  the  reply. 

I  replied  that  three  cows  were  all  the  man  had.  Would 
they  not  accept  one  and  let  us  drive  the  rest  back  to  the 
camp  ? 

They  finally  consented,  and  we  got  the  stock  together 
and  started  back  to  camp,  leaving  the  men  one  cow  and 
our  blessing. 

Darkness  came  down  upon  us  before  we  had  gone  four 


ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

miles  from  Rocky  Hollow,  and  we  had  to  stay  all  night  in 
a  lonely  patch  of  timber.  It  took  us  all  the  next  day  to 
gather  up  the  lame  oxen  and  make  our  way  back  to  the 
camp.  We  were  almost  starved  to  death,  and  were  hailed 
as  deliverers  by  the  anxious  and  despairing  group  awaiting 
our  return.  Only  the  man  who  had  caused  all  the  trouble 
seemed  indifferent.  The  sufferings,  the  anxieties,  the  dan- 
gers endured,  all  melted  together  into  insignificance  beside 
the  sheer  ingratitude  of  the  "boss." 

"You  must  have  druv  them  cattle  purty  hard,"  he  re- 
marked, as  he  removed  his  quid  of  long  green  and  replaced 
it  with  a  larger  one.  "They're  e'enamost  tuckered  out." 

We  moved  on  as  soon  as  the  cattle  were  rested,  toward 
Fort  Wise.  On  our  way  we  passed  the  dilapidated  ruins 
of  the  Old  Bent's  Fort  where,  a  few  years  before,  the  In- 
dians had  massacred  about  thirty-five  persons  —  all  of  the 
garrison,  and  the  settlers  who  had  taken  refuge  in  the  fort. 
It  was  a  melancholy  sight,  and  called  up  gloomy  reflec- 
tions; but  everything  was  quiet  now,  and  we  passed  on  to 
Fort  Wise,  reaching  it  the  first  of  April.  Here  were  a 
large  number  of  Indians,  survivors  from  Colonel  Critten- 
den's  severe  chastisement.  They  had  lost  everything  they 
had  in  the  way  of  food,  and  most  of  their  equipage.  They 
had  subsisted  on  mule-flesh  awhile,  and  then  swarmed 
around  Fort  Wise  to  beg  help  from  the  Government.  One 
of  them  at  once  proffered  me  a  mule  for  a  trifling  sum. 
Another  wanted  to  trade  me  a  pony  for  a  saddle  and  a 
bottle  of  absinthe.  But  it  was  contrary  to  military  orders 
to  trade  with  them. 

At  Fort  Wise  we  fell  in  with  some  freighters  bound  for 
St.  Louis,  with  empty  wagons,  and  a  "cavillard"  (Spanish 
for  loose  cattle  and  mules)  driven  behind  the  wagon. 


THE  RETURN  TRIP.  175 

That  night,  some  of  our  company  became  acquainted 
with  two  of  the  privates  in  the  Fort,  and  planned  to  help 
them  desert  from  the  service.  Always  ready  to  do  a  deed 
for  the  results  of  which  he  would  be  too  cowardly  to  take 
the  consequences,  "Boss''  Inman  (as  the  men  still  called 
him)  allowed  these  deserters  during  the  night  to  pack  their 
rations  in  the  wagon  I  had  loaned  him. 

I  learned  of  it  the  next  morning,  and  earnestly  remon- 
strated against  his  allowing  them  to  further  accompany 
him. 

"  Pshaw !"  he  answered ;  "we'll  be  rid  of  'em  before 
we  are  fairly  started.  I  mean  to  betray  them.  But  my 
family  are  gettin'  short  on  provisions,  and  I  want  the'r 
grub." 

I  did  not  think  he  would  do  such  a  thing.  But  I  learned 
afterwards  that  he  had  intrigued  with  an  officer  of  low 
rank  for  their  capture.  Sure  enough  !  about  four  miles 
from  the  Fort,  we  saw  the  two  privates  camped  in  some 
brush.  Suddenly  two  sergeants  rode  up  to  them.  The 
privates,  weary  with  their  night's  work  and  their  rapid 
tramp,  had  fallen  asleep,  and  they  were  arrested  without 
trouble.  The  officers  looked  through  our  train  and  found 
the  rations.  I  was  afraid  we  would  all  be  arrested  for 
complicity  in  this  serious  matter,  but  true  to  his  promise 
to  Inman,  one  of  the  officers  remarked  with  an  oath : 

"Let  their  rations  stay  there.  These  fellows  won't  need 
them.  They'll  feed  on  bread  and  water  for  the  next  six 
months." 

Inman  was  a  specimen  of  the  class  of  people  one  fre- 
quently met  in  crossing  the  plains  in  the  fifties.  He  did 
not  evince  the  slightest  compunction  as  the  poor  soldiers 
went  back  to  suffer  for  their  desertion. 


176  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

It  was  a  grand  sight  in  the  old  " trail"  days  to  see  the 
"  prairie  schooners "  with  their  white  covers  careering 
proudly  over  the  desert.  Sometimes  a  heavily-laden 
wagon  would  have  as  many  as  twenty  yoke  of  oxen  or 
as  many  span  of  mules  attached,  and  often  the  string  of 
wagons  was  a  mile  or  more  in  length.  Shouts  of  glee, 
merry  songs,  happy  child-laughter,  and  the  tones  of  women 
in  conversation,  made  the  long  journeys  a  dream  of  pic- 
turesque and  never-to-be-forgotten  pleasure.  Few  that 
participated  in  those  journeys  remain  to  tell  the  story. 
Many  of  them  long  ago  reached  the  end  of  life's  trail, 
crossed  the  river,  and  are  camping  upon  the  plains  of 
celestial  light.  Other  scenes  now  are  exhibited  in  the 
panorama  of  Nature  than  the  hundreds  of  miles  of  lonely 
road,  the  occasional  Indians,  the  wild  birds  and  animals. 
The  wilderness  has  been  turned  into  a  garden,  occupied 
by  civilized  man.  But  so  long  as  a  single  person  who 
once  crossed  the  plains  over  the  Santa  Fe  trail  remains,  so 
long  will  pictures  of  that  grand  old  time  rise  in  his  mind, 
and  stand  out  in  bold  relief,  unchallenged  as  to  wildness 
and  beauty  by  any  other  vivid  scene  of  imagination  or 
memory. 

As  we  joined  the  caravan  winding  across  the  prairies, 
now  comparatively  safe  from  savages,  and  led  by  a  lively 
and  friendly  wagon-master,  our  spirits  rose,  and  we  fancied 
that  all  dangers  and  annoyances  were  ended.  Our  late 
companions  in  travel  had  found  conveyance  in  the  freight- 
ers' empty  wagons,  we  had  regained  most  of  our  property, 
and  now  traveled  in  peace.  Our  progress  was  slow  ;  some 
days  we  only  made  fifteen  or  twenty  miles.  The  oxen 
were  lame  and  weary,  and  some  of  them  were  sick  from 
the  alkaline  water.  We  camped  at  night  on  the  highest 


THE  RETURN  TRIl\  177 

ground,  as  it  gave  us  a  better  watch  prospect,  and  we  were 
freer  from  annoyance  by  wolves.  One  night  in  a  valley 
below  us,  the  howling  of  the  wolves  was  fearful.  Early 
the  next  morning  the  wagon  train  moved  onward,  and  in 
the  hurry  of  starting  my  gray  mare  was  left  alone.  I 
sprang  on  Lizzie's  pony  and  went  back  after  the  poor  creat- 
ure, but  before  I  could  reach  her  a  large  buffalo  wolf  had 
hamstrung  the  animal.  I  was  not  three  rods  from  her 
when  she  fell  backward,  bleeding  fearfully,  and  groaning 
with  anguish.  I  had  no  time  to  lose.  The  train  had 
moved  on,  and  Lizzie  and  my  wife  were  sitting  in  the  car- 
riage, nervously  waiting  for  my  return.  I  sprang  off  the 
pony,  tore  the  blanket  from  the  mare,  flung  myself  again 
on  the  mustang  and  galloped  back  to  my  family.  By  the 
time  I  reached  the  carriage,  fifty  wolves  or  more  were  eat- 
ing upon  the  still  living  mare. 

Between  Fort  Wise  and  the  crossing  of  the  Arkansas 
river,  we  saw  many  buffalo  carcasses.  They  had  been 
slain,  the  hide  and  tallow  removed,  a  few  steaks  extracted 
from  the  "hump,"  and  the  rest  of  the  animal  left  for 
wolves.  No  wonder  that  the  noble  buffalo  vanished  from 
Kansas,  nor  that  the  antelope,  disgusted  at  seeing  wolves 
whetting  their  appetites  upon  buffalo-steak,  disappeared 
about  the  same  time. 

Having  crossed  the  Arkansas,  we  made  our  way  to  that 
earliest  symbol  of  Western  civilization,  a  whisky  shanty, 
which  in  this  instance  happened  to  be  still  located  on  Cow 
creek.  There  were  signs  of  human  habitation  to  be  noted 
as  we  neared  the  place.  A  man  with  a  pair  of  buffaloes 
was  breaking  up  a  piece  of  raw  land.  We  breakfasted  on 
canned  oysters,  ham,  eggs,  bread  and  butter,  and,  as  if  to 
make  the  name  of  the  place  good,  were  offered  milk  from 


178  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS.  t 

the  cow  and  water  from  the  creek.  All  this  was  delightful, 
but  was  counterbalanced  by  the  vast  amount  of  poor  whisky 
dealt  out  to  the  freighters.  It  was  astonishing  how  much 
money  those  fellows  seemed  to  have  to  expend  for  liquor, 
and  how  much  of  the  stuff  they  could  put  away.  If  ever 
men  "put  an  enemy  into  their  mouths  to  steal  away  their 
brains,"  it  was  the  unfortunate  men  of  the  wagon  trains. 
With  less  of  the  responsibility  of  an  outgoing  train  to  New 
Mexico,  the  returning  freighters,  always  bent  upon  enjoy- 
ment, often  sought  excess  at  the  first  opportunity.  The 
stuff  called  whisky,  furnished  at  Cow  creek,  sometimes 
made  the  camps  worse  than  scenes  where  escaped  lunatics 
give  vent  to  unbridled  noise  and  passion.  There  seemed 
always  in  these  long  trains  a  commingling  of  various  nation- 
alities, and  when  all  were  fired  with  whisky,  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  tell  who  were  the  worse  men — Indians,  Mexicans, 
Spaniards,  or  Americans. 

The  number  of  wagons  camped  on  Cow  creek  was  suf- 
ficient to  form  a  large  square,  as  a  protection  against  ma- 
rauders or  intruders  who  might  not  be  in  sympathy  with 
the  fraternity  of  freighters.  We  had  within  the  corral 
thus  formed,  over  two  hundred  head  of  mixed  stock  — 
forty  span  of  mules,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  oxen. 
There  were  not  so  many  men  as  usually  went  out  to  New 
Mexico  with  the  freight,  for  it  was  customary  to  gather 
up  a  good  many  men  that  wanted  to  go  to  the  Territory, 
and  many  of  them  did  not  return  with  the  freighters  to 
the  States.  There  were  several  families,  which,  like  my 
own,  had  joined  the  freighters  for  company,  and  each 
separate  company  had  a  separate  fire.  There  were  six 
fires  outside  of  the  square,  that  evening  we  spent  in  camp 
upon  Cow  creek,  and  when  supper  was  over,  the  families 


THE  RETURN  TRIP,  179 

were  grouped  about  them  listening  to  merry  ditties  and 
tales  of  adventure,  all  engaged  in  passing  away  the  time. 
There  was  no  light  save  from  the  burning  embers. 

I  was  watching  the  men  who  had  been  drinking  at  the 
shanty,  and,  as  some  of  them  began  to  grow  mischievous, 
felt  uneasy  as  to  results.  I  took  my  carriage  a  little  way 
off,  and  quietly  closed  my  wife  and  daughter  within  it. 
There  was  a  Canadian  in  the  drunken  crowd,  who  now 
began  to  go  up  to  the  fires  (beside  which  still  sat  women 
and  children)  and  stamp  out  the  embers.  I  knew  that 
when  the  fires  were  all  extinguished,  pandemonium  would 
reign  supreme,  and  I  resolved  to  protect  my  fire.  I  had 
prepared  myself  with  the  heavy  iron  rod  of  my  musket, 
and  when  the  Canadian,  having  extinguished  all  of  the 
fires  but  mine,  staggered  over  to  where  I  was  sitting,  I 
dealt  him  a  blow  across  the  head  just  as  he  sent  his  great 
boot  at  my  fire.  He  fell  with  a  heavy  thud,  face  foremost, 
into  the  ashes.  A  man  near  me  rushed  at  him,  and  as  he 
did  so  the  drunken  gang  close  by  raised  an  Indian  war- 
whoop.  Not  caring  who  they  fought,  they  seized  the  first 
person  at  hand.  It  happened  to  be  the  Canadian,  who  was 
just  recovering  from  the  effects  of  the  blow  dealt  him. 
He  fought  like  a  tiger,  but  they  dragged  him  down  and 
threw  him  into  the  river,  and  when  he  emerged  they  for- 
got him,  and  fought  each  other  indiscriminately  in  the 
darkness.  No  shots  were  fired,  but  clubs  and  butts  of 
firearms  were  industriously  wielded  for  more  than  half  the 
night. 

A  sorrowful  scene  for  persons  entering  the  bounds  of 
civilization  presented  itself  the  next  morning.  If  we  had 
stepped  within  the  portals  of  the  damned  instead  of  the 
limits  of  the  region  inhabited  by  Americans,  the  scene 


180  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

could  not  have  been  more  terrible.  Black  eyes,  broken 
heads,  bruised  skins,  crippled  limbs,  wretches  on  the  bare 
earth  and  beds  of  straw,  dozens  of  men  unable  to  answer 
the  call  of  the  freighter,  to  yoke  the  oxen  or  harness  the 
mules,  were  some  of  the  features  presented.  Several  half- 
sobered  sinners  were  left  without  a  dime  to  buy  bread,  and 
without  pay  for  their  previous  work.  It  was  a  sad  time  to 
the  poor  fellows  when  the  wagon  train  wound  out  of  sight 
leaving  them  to  digest  their  poor  whisky  and  bad  folly  on 
empty  stomachs  and  with  unfilled  purses.  I  never  knew 
what  became  of  them. 

The  extravagance  of  the  men  had  caused  the  wagon- 
master  to  be  out  of  supplies,  and  we  were  fifty  miles  from 
where  he  could  purchase  more.  Although  well  stocked 
with  wretched  liquor,  the  trader  at  Cow  creek  had  no  flour 
to  spare,  and  but  for  the  surplus  I  happened  to  have  with 
us,  the  men  would  have  suffered  from  hunger.  I  let  them 
have  two  sacks  of  flour  and  a  hundred  pounds  of  meat,  and 
we  resumed  our  journey. 

At  Cottonwood  was  a  small  dairy  where  milk  and  water 
could  be  had  as  freely  as  whisky  could  at  Cow  creek.  It 
was  amusing,  however,  how  afraid  freighters  were  of  the 
possible  effects  of  alkaline  waters  on  the  system,  and  the 
certainty  that  a  flask  of  liquor  was  an  indispensable  aid 
for  rattlesnake-bites.  We  saw  the  flasks  much  oftener  than 
the  snakes,  though  their  owners  had  the  appearance  of  be- 
ing constantly  bitten.  We  camped  at  Cottonwood,  and 
spent  a  quiet  night.  The  month  of  May  with  its  healing 
breezes  had  come.  As  the  tall  cottonwood  trees  waved 
above  us,  the  Kansas  zephyrs  seemed  to  whisper  in  our 
ears  promises  of  sweet  home  life,  and  of  peace  and  rest, 
not  far  off  in  the  future,  but  near  at  hand.  The  murmur- 


THE  RETURN  TRIP.  181 

ings  of  civil  war,  which  had  now  increased  into  a  burst  of 
sound,  were  not  distinguishable  in  this  sylvan  retreat.  We 
were  happy  almost  to  gayety  as  we  resumed  the  trail. 

We  soon  passed  Lost  Springs,  and  camped  in  the  Dia- 
mond valley.  The  next  day,  May  6th,  1861,  brought  us 
to  the  place  of  our  destination — Council  Grove,  Kansas. 

Inman  got  even  with  me  for  forcing  him  to  turn  away 
from  the  alluring  vision  of  Pike's  Peak.  He  had  taken 
my  wagon  to  pieces  and  loaded  it  with  his  supplies  in  the 
freighter's  wagon.  Then  he  saddled  upon  me  the  bill  for 
bringing  himself  and  family  all  the  way  from  Fort  Wise  to 
Council  Grove.  I  had  to  put  the  wagon  together,  and 
by  this  time  it  was  as  dearly  bought  a  wagon  as  has  ever 
been  seen  in  Kansas.  But  victory  is  something. 


CHAPTER   XL 

LIFE   ON   A   KANSAS   FARM. 

Council  Grove,  Kansas,  in  1861,  was  a  very  different 
place  from  the  same  town  in  1896.  Only  a  few  houses 
were  on  the  site  of  the  village,  although  it  was  growing, 
and  throughout  Morris  county  there  was  little  in  the  way 
of  improvements.  The  Kaw  Indians  owned  the  land  on 
which  the  town  was  located,  and  so  long  as  their  title  was 
in  force  it  seemed  useless  to  attempt  permanent  improve- 
ments. The  beautiful  orchards,  the  fruitful  gardens  and 
blooming  flowers  were  then  all  missing  from  the  land- 
scape, and  the  bending  trees  and  far-sweeping  prairies  on 
which  the  miracle  of  spring  was  just  being  wrought  looked 
lonely  enough.  But  we  ate  our  dinners  on  the  grass  back 
of  a  Dr.  Bradford's,  (still  an  honored  resident  of  Council 
Grove,)  bought  a  quart  of  milk  to  drink,  and  rejoiced  in 
being  at  last  alone  as  a  family,  and  within  reach  of  cul- 
tured people. 

We  had  no  home,  but  a  Reverend  William  Bradford 
loaned  us  a  claim-house  for  one  week,  and  we  started  for 
our  new  home  —  a  log  shanty  in  the  midst  of  a  sea  of 
waving  grass. 

Indians  usually  select  the  best  locations,  and  I  decided 
that  as  I  must  stop  somewhere  until  Sefior  Weber  brought 
my  four  hundred  dollars,  it  might  as  well  be  near  Council 
Grove. 

There  were  no  newspapers  to  afford  information  at  that 
time  in  Morris  county,  except  a  very  amusing  sheet  known 

(182) 


LIFE  ON  A  KANSAS  FARM.  183 

as  the  Kansas  Press,  published  by  Colonel  Sam  Wood*- 
well  known  in  the  early  history  of  Kansas.  And  although 
the  early  files  of  this  Kansas  production  were  worthy  of  a 
place  in  a  Kansas  museum,  there  was  little  in  them  to 
help  one  in  the  choice  of  a  location.  Although  Kansas 
was  settling  up  rapidly,  people  came  into  Morris  more 
slowly  than  into  the  adjacent  counties,  on  account  of  the 
Indian  titles  to  the  land.  Morris  county  had  taken  her 
part,  however,  in  the  early  struggles.  Colonel  Wood  and 
Honorable  H.  J.  Espy  had  held  seats  in  the  famous  Leav 
enworth  Constitutional  Convention  of  1858,  William  Me- 
Cullough  in  the  Wyandotte  Convention  of  1859,  and  many 
of  the  citizens  had  ardently  aided  the  Free-State  cause. 
Now  that  the  Rebellion  had  begun,  her  brave  men  stood 
ready  to  go  at  the  call  of  duty  in  defense  of  their  country, 
and  their  wives  and  daughters  were  as  ready  to  bid  them 
good-bye  and  God-speed  as  were  the  women  of  any  other 
county  in  the  State.  Of  the  two  men  first  mentioned, 
Colonel  Wood  afterwards  served  with  distinction  in  a 
Kansas  regiment,  and  Mr.  Espy,  then  Colonel  of  the  68th 
Indiana  regiment,  laid  down  his  life  at  Chickamauga  to 
conserve  the  principles  to  which  "Bleeding  Kansas"  owed 
her  existence.  Many  other  Morris  county  patriots  deserve 
the  mention  which  lack  of  space  forbids. 

A  gentleman  named  William   Owens,  wishing  to  con- 

*  Colonel  Samuel  N.  Wood  possessed  a  remarkably  forceful  character,  and  in  more 
than  one  case  stamped  his  individuality  on  Kansas  thought.  Fearless  to  reckless- 
ness, by  the  rescue  of  a  Free-State  prisoner  in  1855  he  precipitated  the  Border  war  in 
Kansas,  which  resulted  in  making  it  forever  impossible  for  slavery  to  gain  a  footing 
in  the  State.  Standing  by  the  position  taken,  he  devoted  his  entire  service  to  the 
Free-State  cause.  As  a  public  officer  he  was  a  firm  friend  to  education.  With  him 
originated  the  Kansas  Normal  Institute.  Despite  the  faults  which  many  claimed  he 
possessed,  Kansas  lost  a  friend  who  had  served  her  faithfully  as  citizen,  soldier, 
officer,  when  he  was  cruelly  murdered  at  Hugoton,  Kansas,  in  June,  1891,  by  a  man 
interested  in  a  county-seat  fight  at  that  place. 


184  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

tribute  his  support  as  a  soldier  to  the  Union  cause,  was 
attempting  to  sell  his  Morris  county  land  so  he  could  be 
free  to  enter  the  army.  He  had  a  half-section  of  land 
upon  which  he  had  "squatted,"  a  one-roomed  log  house 
without  a  window,  and  a  log  foundation  for  another  shanty. 
I  bought  both  quarter-sections,  and  as  it  was  not  lawful  to 
hold  more  than  one,  I  gave  the  other  to  a  neighboring 
squatter.  We  then  moved  into  the  house ;  the  furniture 
consisted  of  one  table,  one  bedstead,  and  a  chair. 

There  were  only  eight  acres  ready  for  cultivation,  and 
I  at  once  had  broken  ten  acres  additional.  The  dry  year 
of  1860  had  discouraged  the  settlers  so  that  they  had  made 
small  attempt  to  turn  over  the  sod  ;  but  plentiful  rains 
had  fallen,  and  there  was  fair  promise  of  abundant  crops. 
Grass  was  twelve  inches  high,  and  cattle  were  fattening 
rapidly. 

The  distress  of  the  previous  year  was  still  severely  felt, 
and  aid  from  the  East  was  being  received  by  many  Kan- 
sas settlers. 

At  the  request  of  my  neighbors,  I  took  a  yoke  of  oxen, 
and  drove  to  Atchison,  Kansas,  where  aid  was  being  dis- 
tributed to  sufferers.  Robert  went  with  me.  The  mate- 
rials had  all  been  given  out,  and  after  buying  for  my  own 
family  as  much  food-stuff  as  my  purse  would  permit,  weary 
and  tired  from  the  long  journey,  we  started  for  Morris 
county. 

Returning,  we  passed  through  Topeka,  then  an  extremely 
small  and  sparsely  populated  city,  compared  with  the 
splendid  appearance  it  presents  at  the  present  time.  We 
camped  near  what  is  now  the  coal-producing  city  of  J>ur- 
Tingame,  and  I  was  there  caught  in  my  first  Kansas  storm. 
It  was  typical  of  the  hardships  the  State  had  endured,  that 


LIFE  ON  A    AM  AX  IN  FAR^f.  185 

many  early  settlers  first  met  real  calamity  in  a  struggle 
for  a  livelihood  within  her  borders.  Wet  to  the  skin,  I 
took  a  severe  cold,  which  settled  in  my  eyes,  and  for  a 
time  made  me  nearly  blind.  Worse,  it  resulted  in  granu- 
lated eyelids,  which  has  cost  me  much  suffering  and  great 
expense,  and  was  the  first  real  personal  affliction  I  had 
ever  been  called  upon  to  endure. 

On  the  way  back  from  Atchison,  we  camped  on  a  small 
hill  near  Auburn,  Shawnee  county  —  afterwards  visited  by 
Quantrell  and  his  gang.  There  were  several  high  brick 
buildings  in  the  town,  but  the  water  was  so  vile  that  al- 
though the  citizens  dug  deeply  for  purer  streams,  they  had 
not  then  been  found. 

Tired  and  hungry,  leaving  Robert  to  attend  to  the  oxen, 
I  made  a  fire,  and  was  busying  myself  about  our  meal, 
when  a  man,  booted  and  spurred,  rode  up  and  began  fir- 
ing a  volley  of  questions  at  me.  He  was  evidently  a  pol- 
itician. 

"Did  you  come  from  Council  Grove?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  man  named  Sam  Wood?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  looking  up  at  him  crossly  —  for  his 
talk  did  not  satisfy  hunger. 

"What  do  the  people  say  of  him?  "  was  the  next  ques- 
tion. 

"I  am  a  stranger,"  I  answered,  "and  do  not  take  much 
interest  in  their  talk." 

"But  what  opinion  did  you  form  from  their  conversa- 
tion \  "  he  persisted. 

I  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  by  this  time  of  the  identity  of 
my  interlocutor. 

—13 


186  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

"From  what  I  have  heard,"  I  answered,  "I  should  sup- 
pose that  he  must  be  a  d  —  d  rascal." 

"I  am  that  man,"  he  said,  in  a  satisfied  tone,  and 
jumped  on  his  horse  and  galloped  off. 

I  learned  when  I  reached  Council  Grove  that  Mr.  Wood 
was  a  candidate  for  office.  I  hope  the  reply  given  him 
proved  as  helpful  as  he  desired  it  should  be  in  ascertain- 
ing the  drift  of  popular  opinion.  He  often  laughed  over 
our  conversation  afterwards,  saying  that  was  the  hardest 
rub  he  ever  received. 

Upon  reaching  home,  I  tried  to  forget  this  wild-goose 
chase  by  plunging  into  the  work  of  crop-planting.  Life 
was  far  from  pleasant  in  our  new  home.  Squatters  upon 
the  Kaw  lands,  we  were  subject  to  abuse  and  afraid  of  be- 
ing eventually  deprived  of  our  lands.  Often  our  horses, 
cattle  and  pigs  were  stolen,  and  sometimes  a  pig  would 
run  home  with  an  Indian  arrow  sticking  through  its  body, 
apparently  glad  to  have  escaped  even  on  those  terms  from 
the  roasting-spits  of  its  would-be  captors.  Under  all  cir- 
cumstances, until  the  titles  could  be  confirmed,  we  put  up 
with  privations  and  did  with  very  little  furniture. 

During  the  summer  of  1861,  the  fire  of  patriotism  was 
burning  at  white  heat.  Kansas  people  almost  as  a  unit 
in>iMed  on  the  sacredness  of  the  Union.  Hearts  flamed 
with  a  burning  zeal  to  prevent  a  dissolution  of  the  Tinted 
States,  and  the  ardor  extended  itself  even  to  the  Indians. 
Tiie  Cherokee  Indians  especially  Mocked,  to  the  service, 
leaving  their  vast  herds  of  ponies  and  cattle  at  the  mercy 
of  thieves.  In  a  short  time  the  red  patriots  became  great 
sufferer^  from  this  source.  Two  y<»unir  men  from  Morris 
county,  named  l>ledsoe,  went  into  the  Territory  and  as- 
sisted in  the  robberies.  They  were  arrested  by  vigilantes, 


LIFE  ON  A    KANSAS   t-\\RM.  187 

tied  to  a  wagon,  and  driven  off,  while  their  captors  riddled 
them  with  bullets.  It  was  a  hard  fate  for  them,  and 
a  sad  story  for  their  mourning,  desolate  father;  but  in 
those  times  there  was  little  palliation  made  for  atrocious 
crimes.  Men  took  their  lives  in  their  own  hands,  and  at 
their  own  peril  became  marauders  and  guerrillas.  If 
caught,  they  knew  the  result  that  would  follow. 

Great  privations  were  endured  by  the  settlers  that  sum- 
mer, despite  the  prospects  for  a  good  crop.  Flour  was 
twelve  to  fifteen  dollars  per  barrel,  corn  meal  three  dollars 
per  hundred,  bacon  twenty-five  cents  and  coffee  sixty  cents 
per  pound.  We  used  rye  for  coffee  and  a  prairie  herb  for 
tea.  All  luxuries  were  out  of  the  question.  Those  of  us 
who  from  circumstances  beyond  our  control  could  not 
fight  for  the  country  had  no  easy  time  to  keep  the  wolf 
away  from  the  door  during  those  terrible  days.  If  we 
never  applied  for  a  pension  on  the  ground  of  the  hard- 
ships endured,  they  were  nevertheless  severe. 

In  our  own  home  we  had  secured  a  good  cow,  and  with 
our  prosperous  garden  were  able  to  make  a  frugal  living. 
Dried  fruit  was  too  expensive  to  be  used,  but  we  found 
some  wild  plums  and  chokeberries  which  took  its  place. 
I  raised  corn  enough  for  my  ponies  and  to  fatten  a  pig  for 
our  meat.  We  had  more  cabbage  than  we  could  sell,  and 
I  made  it  into  kraut.  Altogether,  we  were  not  uncom- 
fortable. 

We  had  no  mowing-machine,  and  as  the  time  of  grass 
harvest  came  on  my  neighbor  put  up  the  hay  as  fast  as  I 
cut  it  with  a  scythe.  This  work  ended,  we  made  the 
best  preparations  we  could  for  the  coming  winter,  and  they 
were  hardly  completed  when  the  second  personal  calamity 
of  my  life  fell  upon  me.  Hard  labor  and  the  malaria  (of 


188  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

which  the  air  was  full)  brought  on  a  kind  of  fever  and 
ague,  accompanied  by  a  chronic  complaint  which  nearly 
cost  me  my  life.  The  doctors  gave  me  up  to  die,  and 
when  I  recovered  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  work  as  I  had 
previously  done,  a  whole  year  had  elapsed.  The  healthful 
breezes  of  Minnesota  and  the  balmy  seasons  of  New 
Mexico  were  very  different  from  the  climate  of  Kansas. 
The  long-buried  soil,  now  first  turned  over  by  the  plow, 
filled  the  atmosphere  with  an  effluvium  so  miasmatic  in  its 
influence  that  a  man  could  hardly  plow  a  day  without  an 
attack  of  ague. 

The  terrible  sufferings  endured  for  long,  weary  months, 
when  for  hours  at  a  time  I  shook  like  a  leaf,  or  burned 
like  a  red-hot  coal,  and  the  complication  of  diseases 
growing  out  of  my  prolonged  misery,  I  shall  never  for- 
get. I  became  as  a  skeleton,  and  lay  for  weeks  in  a 
semi-conscious  state,  only  roused  by  the  efforts  of  my 
faithful  wife  as  she  tried  to  force  nourishment  between 
my  lips.  Then  a  dropsy  set  in,  and  I  was  threatened 
with  certain  death.  But  at  this  time  my  brain  became 
clearer.  I  had  been  troubled  with  all  sorts  of  visions. 
Rays  of  sparkling  and  ever-changing  light  danced  before 
my  eyes,  until  the  pain  of  vision  became  intense.  A 
long  ladder  on  which  angels  were  ascending  and  descend- 
ing was  constantly  in  sight,  and  the  most  perplexing  parr 
of  my  fever  was  the  placing  by  an  unseen  hand  of  a  long 
row  of  ripe  tomatoes.  I  was  ordered  to  pick  them  one 
by  one,  and  when  the  work  was  finished  my  sickness  was 
to  end.  To  my  disordered  mind  they  probably  repre- 
sented the  years  of  my  life.  When  at  last  I  became  con- 
scious, I  found  myself  raised  in  the  bed  in  my  dear  wife's 
arms.  As  I  look  back  to  that  day,  I  am  tilled  with  a 


LIFE  ON  A   KANSAS  FARM.  189 

happy  gratitude  that  the  Giver  of  life  has  seen  fit  to  ex- 
tend the  term  of  those  years  to  the  present  time,  instead 
of  permitting  the  angel  of  death  to  descend  the  ladder, 
and  place  my  hand  upon  the  last  ripe  fruit  in  the  garden 
of  my  life. 

I  have  mentioned  my  illness  to  show  what  the  early 
pioneers  of  Kansas  endured  in  their  efforts  to  transform 
the  prairies  into  farms.  I  cannot  pass  it  without  paying 
tribute  to  my  heroic  wife,  who,  like  all  other  pioneer 
women  of  Kansas,  bore  privation,  and  suffered  hardships 
to  do  her  part  in  the  work  of  settling  the  State  we  had 
both  learned  to  love. 

When  I  opened  my  eyes  to  a  knowledge  of  my  sur- 
roundings, it  was  a  December  morning,  near  the  close  of 
1861 ;  my  wife  told  me  that  it  was  bitterly  cold  and  was 
snowing.  I  was  too  weak  to  reason  about  the  matter,  but 
I  looked  at  the  fire  burning  on  the  hearth,  and  knew  she 
was  right.  During  the  two  months  when  my  illness  was 
at  its  worst,  she  and  Lizzie,  unable  to  leave  me  long 
enough  to  chop  wood,  had  carried  rails  from  a  neighbor- 
ing fence,  put  one  end  of  a  rail  in  the  fireplace  and  the 
other  out  of  the  doorway,  until  it  burned  off,  and  thus 
contrived  to  keep  warm.  Both  my  wife  and  daughter 
had  the  ague  by  this  time,  and  nutritious  food  was  scarce 
in  the  house.  Still,  with  the  heroism  that  only  a  woman 
exhibits  in  such  straits,  Mrs.  Brake  nursed  her  utterly 
helpless  husband  and  her  sick  child,  and  seldom  com- 
plained. 

At  length,  a  preacher  of  the  Christian  church  named 
Fisher  found  us,  and  came  like  an  angel  of  mercy  to  our 
relief.  He  brought  with  him  quinine  for  the  ague,  arti- 
cles from  which  we  could  make  nourishing  food,  and  his 


190  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

team  with  which  he  hauled  us  a  lot  of  wood.  He  also 
brought  with  him  men  to  help  cut  up  the  wood,  and  never 
left  us  until  we  were  as  comfortable  as  sickness  would 
allow  us  to  be.  If  in  recording  reminiscences  of  Morris 
county,  Kansas,  I  must  mention  a  few  people  that  were 
in  those  times  weak  and  erring,  here  let  me  say  that  the 
deeds  of  this  one  minister  of  the  gospel,  if  placed  in  the 
scale  against  the  wickedness  of  all  of  them,  would  kick 
the  beam  to  the  ceiling,  and  cause  to  be  forever  registered 
in  letters  of  light  the  superiority  of  the  character  of  the 
great  mass  of  the  early  settlers  over  the  few  who  are  so 
often  quoted  as  representative  of  the  early  Kansas  days. 

But  the  sufferings  of  that  awful  winter  have  had  no 
parallel  in  our  family  life.  Besides  the  severe  cold  weather 
and  the  wasting  sickness,  we  were  the  subjects  of  much 
loss.  My  Indian  mare  was  stolen,  my  carriage  seized  for 
my  doctor's  bill,  my  other  horse  taken  and  sold  by  In- 
dians, my  saddle  and  bridle  stolen,  and  my  harness  and 
overcoat  loaned.  As  the  winter  passed  away,  we  had 
little  enough  to  eat.  Lizzie  and  her  mother  shelled  two 
sacks  of  corn  and  sent  them  to  Council  Grove  to  mill. 
Two  weeks  elapsed,  and  we  suffered  for  food.  Bran  and 
beans  were  all  we  had  to  keep  us  alive.  When  the  meal 
reached  us  we  only  received  one  small  sack,  but  we  were 
glad  to  get  any  of  it  back,  and  did  not  complain  of  the 
excessive  toll. 

The  first  relief  of  this  time  came  to  us  in  March.  A 
Mr.  William  Polk  purchased  of  us  eight  large  walnut 
trees  for  a  dollar  apiece,  and  began  making  walnut  shin- 
gles. With  a  one-horse  machine  they  produced  a  fine 
quality  of  shingles  —  about  the  first  of  the  kind  made  in 
Kansas.  The  eight  dollars  was  a  great  help  to  us,  and  a 


LIFE   ON  A    KANSAS  FARM.  191 

little  later,  although  far  from  strong,  I  went  to  work  for 
Mr.  Polk  at  one  dollar  per  day  as  a  sort  of  second  sawyer 
in  the  shingle  business. 

After  that  the  cloud  lifted.  One  day  when  I  was  in 
Council  Grove,  I  received  word  that  a  draft  for  four  hun- 
dred dollars  awaited  iny  acceptance  at  Kansas  City.  My 
carriage  was  redeemed,  my  bills  paid,  and  after  hiring  a 
man  to  break  ten  acres  of  land  for  me,  I  bought  a  cheap 
wagon  and  began  hauling  wood  for  a  living  for  my  family. 
When  my  debts  were  paid  and  a  horse  purchased,  we  had 
only  a  few  dollars  left.  But  I  was  recovering  health  and 
spirits,  and  while  my  loved  ones  at  the  house  busied  them- 
selves in  making  butter  and  raising  chickens,  I  managed 
to  plant  twenty  acres  with  corn  and  potatoes.  The 
prairie  schooners  still  kept  the  plains  dotted  with  their 
sails,  and  to  the  freighters  I  sold  many  dollars'  worth  of 
vegetables.  Of  cabbage  alone,  I  sold  seventy-five  dollars' 
worth,  and  other  stuff  in  proportion. 

The  war  was  now  the  topic  uppermost  in  every  mind. 
Each  person  by  this  time  was  placed  in  classification.  He 
was  either  an  "Abolitionist,"  a  "Union  Democrat,"  or  a 
"Secessionist"  or  "Copperhead."  People  of  opposite 
parties  took  delight  in  these  names,  and  in  calling  their 
opponents  by  them.  Kansas,  as  is  well  known,  largely 
favored  the  Union  cause,  and  from  every  county  in  the 
State  men  were  pouring  into  the  ranks  of  the  Federal 
army.  For  myself,  while  heartily  in  sympathy  with  the 
Union,  I  was  not  considered  either  large  enough  or  strong 
enough  for  a  soldier.  I  was  kept  busy  fighting  the  ague, 
which  made  frequent  inroads  upon  my  weakened  system 
and  overtaxed  patience.  My  wife  and  daughter  suffered, 
too,  with  malaria,  arid,  being  obliged  to  take  much  time 


192  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

to  do  little,  the  summer  of  1862  was  gone  before  we  fairly 
realized  the  fact. 

The  prospects  for  a  good  crop  were  most  cheering. 
But  the  task  of  putting  up  hay  for  winter  was  far  from 
pleasant.  There  were  no  McCormick  mowers,  no  sulky 
rakes  with  which  to  do  the  work.  Only  a  scythe,  fork, 
and  rake,  and  the  labor  of  a  man  shivering  with  a  chill  in 
August;  but  at  last  it  was  done,  and  a  bountiful  harvest 
provided  for  our  stock,  as  well  as  a  comfortable  subsist- 
ence for  ourselves. 

The  winter  of  1862-3  was  very  cold.  Snow  fell  in 
abundance,  and  ice  froze  a  foot  thick.  It  had  to  be  cut 
daily  to  water  the  stock.  Our  shanty  was  in  a  rough  part 
of  the  claim.  Trees,  gullies,  snow-covered  rocks,  grew 
monotonous,  and  I  began  to  try  hunting  with  my  flint-lock 
gun  for  a  pastime.  While  strolling  about  near  home  one 
day,  a  flock  of  pheasants  lit  in  the  trees.  Clearly,  here 
was  sport  worthy  of  Nimrod.  It  would  throw  prairie-dog 
shooting  into  the  shade.  I  banged  away  at  the  birds,  and 
down  two  big  ones  fell.  So  did  I  ! — and  the  worst  of  it 
was,  I  kept  on  falling.  Down  a  steep  bank,  over  and  over 
in  the  snow  I  rolled.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  decidedly 
chilly  sensation,  I  would  have  thought  the  bottomless  pit 
.must  be  about  to  receive  me.  Never  kicked  a  gun  like 
that  gun.  It  was  some  time  before  I  recovered  my  wits 
enough  to  call  for  help.  When  Lizzie  came  to  my  rescue, 
the  struggling  birds  must  have  greatly  amused  her.  for  she 
went  off  into  peals  of  laughter. 

Christmas  Day  was  observed  this  year  in  our  home. 
Pheasants  took  the  place  of  r<>ast  beef  and  we  had  the 
usual  plum-padding.  As  we  could  not  attend  church,  we 
read  the  Episcopal  service  from  our  prayer-books,  and  re- 


LIFE   ON  A   KANSAS  FARM.  193 

joiced  in  this  day  of  days,  commemorative  of  the  event 
over  which  surely  again  "the  morning  stars  sang  together 
and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy." 

The  snow  was  deeply  drifted  in  the  hollows  that  winter, 
and  through  the  month  of  January  we  were  completely 
isolated  from  the  world.  No  team  could  have  reached  us, 
but  in  February  the  snow  began  to  melt,  and  a  plan  sug- 
gested to  me  by  Honorable  William  Downing,  Represent- 
ative for  our  district,  began  to  take  shape  in  my  mind.  It 
was  to  the  effect  that  we  remove  to  Topeka,  the  lately 
made  capital  of  Kansas,  and  educate  our  daughter  in  the 
College  of  the  Sisters  of  Bethany.  Being  Episcopalians, 
it  pleased  us  to  think  of  sending  Lizzie  to  a  school  of  that 
denomination. 

I  was  still  a  "squatter"  upon  the  Kaw  lands.  The  In- 
dians held  the  titles  to  a  twenty-mile-square  tract  of  land 
on  which  Council  Grove  was  located,  and  land-sharks, 
Indian  agents,  the  Indians,  and  the  settlers  were  mixed 
up  in  ceaseless  contentions  concerning  the  action  of  the 
United  States  Government  as  related  to  these  lands.  So 
I  decided  to  take  Mr.  Downing's  advice.  I  went  to  To- 
peka and  secured  a  house  and  twelve  acres  of  land,  about 
a  mile  northwest  of  the  business  part  of  the  town  and 
south  of  the  Kaw  river.  The  house  was  one  of  the  best 
then  standing  in  Topeka,  and  was  built  of  brick  and  stone. 
The  grounds  were  a  small  nursery  and  garden. 

Upon  my  return  from  Topeka,  I  learned  that  word  had 
been  received  from  Washington  that  the  settlers  might 
bid  on  the  lands.  An  influential  person  at  Washington, 
named  Blacklidge,  had  agreed  to  accept  five  dollars  from 
each  settler  and  secure  to  all  their  claims,  providing  the 
bids  were  all  right  and  in  accordance  with  the  appraise- 


194  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

ment.  I  at  once  sent  him  the  five  dollars  and  my  bid, 
and  awaited  developments.  I  then  rented  my  claim  by 
contract  to  two  men,  named  Sharp  and  Armstrong,  after 
which  we  packed  np  and  started  for  our  new  home. 

Our  road  to  Topeka  was  over  the  old  Santa  Fe  trail. 
There  was  no  railroad,  and  we  went  overland  with  a  team, 
a  pony,  two  cows,  and  a  calf.  We  made  half  the  journey 
in  one  day,  and  camped  at  night  with  the  heavens  for 
a  canopy  and  the  twinkling  stars  for  companions.  We 
were  very  tired,  and  congratulated  ourselves  on  being  so 
near  our  new  home.  A  hired  team  had  gone  forward 
with  our  goods  and  a  young  calf,  whose  mother  we  drove 
with  the  other  cow. 

In  the  morning,  to  our  dismay  we  found  that  horses 
and  cattle  had  decamped.  Only  a  pony  remained  to  tell 
the  tale  that  we  had  started  with  live  stock.  After  search- 
ing for  two  hours,  I  at  last  concluded  that  the  animals, 
not  caring  to  be  city  creatures,  had  eschewed  the  bovine 
fashions  of  Topeka  and  gone  back  to  the  primitive  enjoy- 
ment of  their  Kaw  companions.  There  we  were,  like 
stranded  pleasure-seekers  with  no  sail  in  sight.  At  last 
an  empty  wagon  came  along  and  took  us  on  to  Topeka. 
A  pitiful  bawl  from  the  motherless  calf  which  had  pre- 
ceded us  greeted  us  by  way  of  welcome.  As  soon  as  I 
could  leave  rny  family,  I  went  back  after  my  missing 
stock,  but  although  I  sought  them  almost  with  tears,  they 
were  inflexible  and  kept  out  of  my  sight.  They  had  not 
returned  to  Morris  county.  The  prairies,  the  hills,  were 
scoured  without  results.  I  finally  reached  a  German  set- 
tlement on  Mill  creek.  The  settlers,  a  thrifty  people, 
could  not  speak  English,  and  were  so  timid  that  they 
were  afraid  of  rny  military  overcoat  which  I  wore  to  pro- 


LIFE  ON  A  KANSAS  FARM.  195 

tect  me  from  the  cold  March  wind.  They  entertained  me 
free  of  charge,  but  could  give  no  information  concerning 
my  property.  For  a  week,  I  searched  among  those  high 
hills  and  deep  valleys  without  success.  At  length  I  met 
a  German  who  could  speak  English,  and  he  told  me  where 
the  horses  were  grazing.  After  some  further  delay  I 
found  the  cows.  One  of  them  had  not  been  used  to  a 
woman  about  her,  and  had  kicked  the  good  German  lady 
who  did  the  milking.  A  dislocated  shoulder  was  the  re- 
sult, and  before  I  could  get  "Madcap"  I  had  to  pay  the 
lady's  doctor  bill. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A  STAY  IN  EARLY  TOPEKA. 

There  were  less  than  eight  hundred  people  in  Topeka 
when  I  settled  there  as  a  resident.  Only  a  village  as  yet, 
but  with  mighty  prospects  before  it.  The  more  than 
thirty  thousand  people,  the  splendid  churches,  institutions, 
buildings,  well-paved  and  lighted  streets,  the  trolley-cars,  of 
to-day,  only  existed,  if  at  all,  in  the  mind  of  some  vision- 
ary dreamer.  The  wonders  of  electricity  were  then  un- 
known—  the  electric  light  and  motor  were  locked  in  the 
brain  of  the  "Wizard."  But  even  then  Topeka  had  that 
first  accessory  to  the  real  Kansas  town,  an  excellent  col- 
lege, and  the  pastor  of  the  Episcopal  church,  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Preston,  superintended  its  work. 

I  took  my  twelve-year-old  daughter  to  the  school,  and 
she  became  a  pupil.  We  united  with  the  Episcopal 
church,  and  remained  in  this  connection  during  our  stay 
in  Topeka.  Reverend  Peter  McVicar  was  then  the  Con- 
gregational minister  in  that  little  city,  and  I  greatly  valued 
his  friendship. 

April,  1863,  found  me  very  busy  as  a  market  gardener, 
raising  all  of  the  products  usually  grown  for  immediate 
sale,  and  devoting  much  time  to  the  nursery  business. 
Those  were  the  dark  days  of  the  war,  when  many  women 
were  left  helpless  and  alone  to  support  themselves  while 
their  husbands  fought  for  their  country.  It  was  a  pleasure 
to  devote  every  odd  moment  to  the  succor  of  the  widow 
and  fatherless,  and  many  pleasant  hours  were  passed  by 

(196) 


A  STAY  IN  EARLY  TOPEKA.  197 

myself  and  wife  in  assisting  the  families  of  dead  soldiers 
during  this  terrible  time,  and  encouraging  those  whose 
husbands  and  fathers  still  lived  to  hope  for  their  safe 
return. 

August  21st,  1863,  occurred  the  terrible  guerrilla  raid 
upon  Lawrence,  Kansas.  The  notorious  leader  Quantrell 
led  his  villainous  band  into  the  place,  in  cold  blood  shot 
down  the  majority  of  the  male  citizens,  burned  the  prin- 
cipal part  of  the  town,  and  left  the  wailing  women  and 
children  to  mourn  their  cruel  and  untimely  losses. 

This  alarming  and  shocking  catastrophe,  falling  upon  a 
sister  city,  threw  Topeka  into  a  state  of  consternation. 
The  suspense  and  apprehension  weighed  heavily  upon 
every  person,  for  Topeka,  like  Lawrence,  was  loyal  to  the 
Union  cause,  and  in  its  almost  defenseless  condition  could 
expect  no  better  treatment  than  had  been  received  by  that 
city.  Our  horror  of  an  attack  was  increased  by  a  visit  to 
the  ruins  of  the  stricken  town  of  Lawrence.  The  sight  of 
the  once  pretty  and  thriving  little  city,  now  in  ashes,  was 
the  saddest  spectacle  we  had  ever  witnessed. 

A  few  days  after  the  Lawrence  Massacre,  a  report 
reached  Topeka  that  Quantrell  was  about  to  march  upon 
that  city.  It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  scenes 
that  followed.  Men,  women  and  children  ran  hurrying 
about,  shouting,  screaming,  moaning,  as  if  crazed.  Horses, 
mules,  cattle  and  dogs  were  loose  ;  saddles,  bridles,  harness 
and  yokes  were  scattered  about  indiscriminately ;  a  man 
with  a  thousand  head  of  sheep  was  driving  them  into  the 
Kaw  valley  to  prevent  their  being  driven  off  by  the  ma- 
rauders, and  everything  was  hurry,  excitement,  and  con- 
fusion. A  line  of  pickets  was  thrown  around  the  city,  and 
every  person  passing  was  challenged  by  the  guards.  My 


198  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

house,  being  a  good-looking  one,  would  probably  be  raided, 
and  Lizzie  and  my  wife  were  busily  engaged  in  removing 
from  its  doomed  walls  everything  too  cumbersome  or 
heavy  for  Quantrell  or  his  men  to  care  about  disturbing. 
Perhaps  they  intended  after  awhile  to  remove  the  more 
valuable  things.  If  so,  in  common  with  all  the  women  of 
Topeka,  they  expected  the  guerrilla  leader  to  grant  them 
unlimited  time  to  complete  their  arrangements. 

The  mail-carrier  from  Council  Grove  came  along  pres- 
ently, and  asked  me  if  we  should  go  into  the  timber  and 
hide. 

"No,"  I  answered,  "let  us  go  down  town  and  face  the 
foe.  You  take  my  pistol,  and  I  will  carry  my  Harper's 
Ferry  musket.  We  will  get  ammunition  at  the  store." 

So  down  town  we  went.  The  pickets  stopped  us  ;  then, 
recognizing  me,  said  : 

"Go  on  and  do  your  best." 

Two  ladies  interposed. 

"Oli,"  cried  one  of  them,  "suppose  they  are  rebels  !  " 

"No  they  be  n't,"  was  the  picket's  rejoinder. 

So  we  went  on  into  the  main  part  of  the  town.  Such 
confusion  I  never  saw  !  Everybody  was  talking,  and  the 
men  were  busy  loading  their  firearms,  buying  ammunition, 
and  all  were  intent  on  greeting  the  guerrillas  with  a  warm 
welcome.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  said  to  the 
mail-carrier: 

"It  is  all  a  hoax.  Go  to  your  hotel.  I  am  goinir 
home." 

Everything  \v;is  out  of  the  house,  and  it  took  most  of 
the  remainder  of  the  night  to  get  beds  and  bedding  enough 
extricated  from  the  general  debris  to  furnish  sleeping-places 
until  morning.  The  ingenuity  of  those  women  in  finding 


A   STAY  IN  EARL  Y    TOPEKA.  199 

hiding-places  for  their  treasures  was  wonderful.  The 
morning  presented  a  sorry  scene.  My  fences  were  broken 
down,  my  growing  crops  destroyed,  and  our  home  ran- 
sacked as  badly  as  if  the  guerrillas  had  gone  through  it, 
leaving  only  the  walls.  But  we  had  kept  busy,  and  that 
was  very  satisfactory. 

Our  minister,  Mr.  Preston,  was  visiting  in  New  England. 
Mrs.  Preston  was  in  great  anxiety  about  the  plate  of  the 
church,  and  also  of  their  own  home.  She  sent  me  word 
about  it,  and  I  took  a  vehicle  and  carried  the  silver  to  a 
log  house  in  the  country,  where  I  left  it  with  a  Mr.  Covel, 
until  Mr.  Preston's  return. 

I  was  fortunate  enough  to  dispose  of  my  damaged  gar- 
den-stuff to  the  landlord  of  the  principal  hotel  in  Topeka, 
and  in  September  was  free  to  give  my  attention  to  other 
matters. 

I  received  word  about  this  time  that  my  bid  on  my  claim 
had  been  granted.  Feeling  that  my  interest  should  center 
upon  my  farm,  I  began,  now  that  I  knew  it  to  be  my  own, 
to  prepare  to  return  to  it.  We  had  made  many  warm 
friends  by  this  time  in  Topeka,  and  these,  with  the  sem- 
inary advantages  for  my  daughter,  formed  ties  that  bound 
us  to  the  place.  But  as  we  must  depend  upon  my  labor 
for  support,  I  concluded  we  would  be  more  comfortable 
upon  the  farm,  and  so  it  was  settled. 

I  had  promised  certain  persons  to  put  up  hay  for  them 
before  I  left  the  city,  and  as  some  of  the  parties  were 
women  whose  husbands  were  in  the  war,  and  they  had 
only  the  meager  thirteen  dollars  per  month  to  live  upon, 
I  promised  to  take  whatever  stock  they  could  easily  spare 
as  pay  for  my  arduous  labor.  I  had  to  go  five  or  six  miles 
to  find  grass,  and  then  it  was  slough-grass.  I  had  no  way 


200  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

to  cut  the  hay  except  with  a  scythe,  and  no  help  but  a  boy. 
But  the  contracts  were  all  filled,  my  goods  packed,  and 
myself  and  family  on  our  way  to  our  farm  in  Morris  county 
by  October  8th,  1863. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

BACK   TO   THE    FARM. 

What  was  most  singular  for  that  time  of  year,  it  snowed 
all  day  ;  and  for  twenty  miles  on  our  journey  there  was  not 
a  house  for  shelter.  Five  miles  further,  however,  were  the 
mail-house  and  stables,  and  here  we  put  up  for  the  night. 

We  found  our  home  the  next  evening  in  a  very  forsaken 
and  dilapidated  condition.  One  of  my  renters  had  gone 
to  the  war;  the  other,  lazy,  disgruntled,  or  idiotic,  had 
raised  nothing,  and  finally  deserted  the  place.  It  had  only 
been  through  the  kindness  of  a  friend  that  my  right  to  the 
place  had  been  secured,  for,  although  my  bid  was  the 
highest,  another  individual  came  near  getting  it.  As  I 
looked  sorrowfully  at  the  forest  of  sunflowers,  some  of 
which  were  twelve  feet  high  and  had  to  be  cut  with  an 
axe,  and  at  the  dense  growth  of  poisonous  weeds  that  cov- 
ered every  fertile  spot,  I  felt  how  difficult  it  was  to  make 
a  home  in  Kansas. 

I  had  brought  with  me  sixteen  head  of  stock,  but  slough- 
grass  was  abundant,  and  the  settlers  had  plenty  of  corn 
and  oats  to  sell ;  so  we  were  soon  prepared  to  winter  our 
stock.  When  the  log  cabin  was  repaired,  we  were  ready 
for  the  winter. 

I  was  elected  justice  of  the  peace  that  fall,  and  served 
in  that  capacity  for  the  term.  It  was  not  a  very  lucrative 
business,  for  there  were  so  few  settlers  in  the  township  we 
could  not  afford  law-suits.  I  always  tried  to  fill  the  office 
of  peacemaker  rather  than  of  justice,  and  it  is  very  satisfac- 

-14  (201) 


202  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

tory  to  me  that  during  the  entire  time  of  my  incumbency 
not  more  than  half  a  dozen  cases  came  to  trial. 

Council  Grove,  being  on  the  line  followed  by  the  freight- 
ers, had  become  a  thriving  place.  There  were  still  num- 
bers of  mules,  horses  and  oxen  kept  there  for  service  in 
crossing  the  plains,  and  the  place  afforded  a  ready  market 
for  all  sorts  of  produce.  Owing  to  the  war,  groceries 
were  still  very  high,  and  besides  this  drawback,  our  stock 
was  in  constant  danger  from  both  white  and  Indian  thieves. 
But  I  held  on  —  watched,  worked,  and  stayed  with  Kansas. 
A  school  opened  about  two  miles  from  us,  at  the  place 
where  Kelso  City  now  stands,  and  during  the  school  sea- 
son Lizzie  would  saddle  her  pony,  ride  to  school,  and  re- 
turn in  the  evening  as  she  went.  Sometimes,  frightened 
at  approaching  Indians  or  suspicious-looking  whites,  she 
would  ride  for  her  life.  Children  did  not  find  it  easy  to 
acquire  an  education  in  the  early  Kansas  days. 

In  January,  1864,  having  run  out  of  money,  I  turned 
my  attention  to  the  resources  of  my  claim.  I  had  about 
forty  acres  of  tine  timber,  and  I  took  a  contract  to  furnish 
the  saw-mill  at  Council  Grove  with  a  lot  of  cord-wood  and 
posts.  This  occupied  the  winter,  and  the  month  of  March 
was  taken  up  in  hauling  the  forest  products  over  the  eight 
miles  to  the  Grove.  In  February,  I  paid  for  my  claim  in 
Kaw  land  scrip,  and  at  last  felt  that  once  more  we  had  a 
home  of  our  own. 

I  sowed  ten  acres  of  wheat  on  the  10th  of  April,  and  it 
snowed  bitterly  all  the  time  I  was  sowing  and  my  hired 
man  covering  it  with  a  turning-plow.  When  the  wheat 
was  harrowed  in,  I  broke  my  land  for  corn,  the  seed  for 
which  cost  two  dollars  per  bushel.  Those  times  furnished 
lib  improved  methods  of  farming.  We  plowed  deep  and 


HACK   TO    THE  FARM.  203 

planted  the  corn  as  we  did  in  New  Mexico.  But  by 
proper  cultivation,  I  often  raised  from  sixty  to  seventy-five 
bushels  of  corn  per  acre. 

During  the  closing  months  of  the  war,  the  Kaw  Indians 
took  great  liberties  with  the  property  of  settlers.  The 
agency  was  only  six  miles  from  my  place,  and  on  pay-day 
the  agents  often  paid  them  in  dry-goods,  plates,  and  trink- 
ets. The  Indians  would  go  around  among  the  settlers  and 
sell  these  things,  and  when  they  saw  an  opportunity  al- 
ways improved  it  by  carrying  off  a  fat  pig  or  a  puppy. 
They  were  extremely  fond  of  fat  roasted  puppies,  and  a 
little  one  I  had  would  hide  so  long  as  the  faces  of  the  In- 
dians were  toward  the  house.  As  soon  as  their  backs  were 
turned,  she  would  fly  after  them,  bite  their  heels  and  bark, 
and  the  Indians  would  look  over  their  shoulders  eager  to 
seize  her  if  no  one  was  watching.  Figs  and  heifers  were 
often  missing.  The  lazy  Kaws  despised  work,  and  seemed 
to  think  the  settlers  on  their  lands  owed. them  a  living. 

There  was  many  a  saddened  home  by  this  time  in  Kan- 
sas. Brave  men  had  gone  to  the  defense  of  the  Union 
and  never  more  returned.  The  gloom  had  settled  like  a 
pall  over  State  and  Nation,  and  our  own  little  county  was 
no  exception  to  its  universality.  For  miles  around  us  it 
seemed  as  if  all  of  the  able-bodied  men  had  gone  to  the 
war.  Delicate  women  did  the  work  of  strong  men,  and 
lived  on,  hoping  for  better  days.  In  one  family  there 
were  only  two  girls  to  maintain  their  invalid  father  and 
mother,  but  they  bravely  took  the  place  of  their  three 
brothers,  and  plowed  and  farmed  forty  acres  of  land. 

The  heat  was  intense  that  spring  and  summer.  Some- 
times, as  I  took  my  way  southward  with  the  wood  I  con- 
tinued to  haul  to  Council  Grove,  the  air  felt  like  the 


204  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

breath  of  a  furnace.  The  man  who  laid  down  in  the  burn- 
ing lime-kiln  to  die  because  the  "unpardonable  sin"  was 
found  within  his  own  breast,  might  have  saved  time  by 
stopping  in  Kansas  during  a  hot  season,  and  stretching 
himself  upon  a  sun-exposed  prairie.  He  could  reasonably 
have  expected  that  a  chance  comer  would  have  found  as 
white  a  skeleton  as  the  villagers  found  in  the  kiln. 

I  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  the  results  of  that  year's 
work.  My  wheat  made  two  hundred  bushels,  and  w£s 
worth  a  dollar  a  bushel.  All  of  my  crops,  including  the 
fine  potatoes  raised  on  my  new  land,  found  a  ready 
market  in  Council  Grove. 

December  set  in  with  a  terrible  snow-storm,  and  I  pre- 
pared to  fulfill  a  contract  I  had  made  to  winter  a  lot  of 
Texas  cattle.  There  was  a  craze  among  the  farmers  of 
Kansas  that  year  over  this  stock.  Many  invested  largely 
in  the  cattle  because  they  could  be  bought  so  cheaply,  and 
many  others,  like  myself,  took  them  to  winter  on  the 
shares.  But  these  long-horned  animals  were  too  loyal  to 
the  Lone-Star  State  to  become  "  jayhawkers."  They  pined 
for  the  mild  climate  of  Texas  until  the  cold  winds  of  Kan- 
sas nearly  blew  through  their  thin  bodies,  and  then  they 
lay  meekly  down  to  die.  The  worst  of  it  was,  it  took  them 
so  long  to  accomplish  their  decease.  One  old  steer  got 
down,  and  after  I  had  carried  him  hundreds  of  buckets  of 
water  and  fed  him  fifteen  bushels  of  high-priced  corn,  he 
bade  farewell  to  Kansas  without  ever  taking  the  trouble 
to  get  up  out  of  his  tracks.  Of  the  forty  in  my  contract, 
I  saved  ten,  and  received  five  of  them  and  a  good  cursing 
for  my  pay.  But  the  experience  was  worth  the  trouble. 
I  have  never  since  undertaken  to  drive  Texas  cattle  out  of 
their  temples  of  yucca  and  cactus. 


BACK  TO    THE  FARM.  205 

Tiie  closing  scenes  of  the  war,  when  the  soldiers  laid 
down  their  arms  and  returned  to  the  pursuits  of  peace, 
the  death  of  the  idolized  Lincoln,  and  the  stormy  times 
that  followed  with  the  reconstruction  of  the  Confederate 
States,  absorbed  every  mind  during  the  spring  of  1865. 
But  I  raised  good  crops  that  year,  and  was  becoming  well 
pleased  with  my  farm,  when  the  soldier  brothers  of  the 
girls  who  during  the  war  had  farmed  the  claim  next  to 
mine  came  home.  Dissatisfied  with  the  idea  of  farming, 
they  persuaded  Mr.  Bowser,  their  father,  to  sell  his  farm 
to  me. 

Before  we  left  our  first  home  in  Kansas,  which  we  sold 
upon  buying  the  other,  a  terrible  freshet  occurred.  The 
creeks  and  rivers  overflowed,  and  the  thundering  of  the 
waters,  the  swirl  of  mighty  logs  in  the  rapid  currents,  for 
two  days  and  nights,  were  awful.  The  water  of  Slough 
creek  came  up  around  my  cabin,  and  washed  the  soil 
away  from  my  corn.  It  was  the  first  experience  of  the 
kind  we  had  suffered,  and,  as  we  were  not  sure  that  our 
ark  of  refuge  could  stand  the  storm,  it  was  with  real  relief 
we  at  last  watched  the  waters  subside. 

Although  I  was  given  possession  of  our  new  estate  and 
the  patent  was  signed  by  Abraham  Lincoln,  I  did  not 
secure  a  warranty  deed  until  September  17,  1867.  The 
new  house  was  a  good  two-story  log  building  having  a 
large  fireplace  which  connected  with  a  capacious  rock 
chimney.  In  it,  we  were  hardly  pioneers  any  longer. 

I  tried  diversified  farming  in  the  spring  of  1867.  Ten 
acres  each  of  corn,  spring  wheat,  and  oats,  five  of  millet, 
some  potatoes,  buckwheat,  and  a  number  of  smaller  crops 
were  planted,  as  Kansas  soil  arid  climate  were  too  uncer- 
tain to  depend  upon  one  kind  of  product.  The  season 


208  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

Kansas.  It  was  accompanied  by  a  deadly  roar  that 
sounded  like  thunder.  I  had  an  Irishman  named  Mike 
Miller  working  for  me,  and  I  called  out  to  him: 

uMike,  what  is  that?  " 

Only  the  whites  of  his  eyes  were  visible,  and  he  was 
shaking  worse  than  the  exigencies  of  the  case  demanded, 
lie  replied  : 

'•The  —  the  earth  is  shaking." 

Sure  enough  !  the  ground  was  shaking  violently,  and 
when  we  went  to  the  house  Lizzie  and  Mrs.  Brake  were 
terror-stricken.  Plates,  cups  and  saucers  had  danced 
about  upon  the  table,  and  the  house  had  seemed  as  if 
rocking.  This  experience  is  worthy  of  mention  for  its 
uniqueness,  and  none  of  us  have  since  had  a  curiosity  to 
witness  the  shaking  of  the  earth  during  a  shock. 

Chinch-bugs  visited  Kansas  in  the  years  1869  and  1870. 
They  fattened  on  my  millet  like  pigs  in  a  corn-bin,  and, 
while  they  did  not  disturb  the  wheat  very  much,  otherwise 
they  did  great  damage.  Potatoes  were  a  poor  crop  in 
J870,  and  corn  was  worm-eaten  and  the  ears  small.  Tea 
wheat  only  made  half  a  crop,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for 
my  beautiful  white  wheat,  which  brought  me  two  dollars 
a  bushel  and  afforded  a  splendid  yield,  we  would  have 
done  badly  as  farmers  that  year. 

I  decided,  as  a  sort  of  recompense  for  my  crop  failures, 
to  invest  in  something  that  would  lead  to  better  results  in 
the  future.  So,  scorning  Texas  cattle  as  a  paying  invest- 
ment, I  bought  a  lot  of  sheep.  I  had  it  all  figured  out. 
Good  fine  wool  brought  forty  cents  per  pound;  as  sheep 
cost  about  two  dollars  per  head,  the  clip  from  a  good,  full- 
grown  animal  would  nearly  pay  for  its  cost.  The  early 
part  of  the  winter  was  MI  mild  that  on  Christmas  Day  we 


To    'I' 111-:    FA  KM.  209 

ate  our  roast  beef  and  plum-pudding  without  a  fire  in  the 
fireplace.  But  it  was  cold  later,  and  I  built  a  circular  pen 
for  the  sheep,  with  an  entrance  into  and  out  of  it.  It  was 
a  pleasure  to  watch  them  on  cold  days  pushing  their  way 
into  their  warm  quarters  and  there  hiding  from  the  weather. 
I  really  enjoyed  the  care  of  them,  but  notwithstanding  the 
"  sheepish  "  enjoyment  I  took  in  wintering  them,  they  did 
not  pay  much  better  than  did  the  Texas  cattle. 

About  this  time  I  received  a  letter  from  my  old  home 
in  Excelsior,  Minnesota.  As  it  embodied  the  general  char- 
acteristics of  life  in  Minnesota,  I  in  part  reproduce  it: 

"EXCEI.SIOK,  MINNESOTA,  February  7,  1870. 

"MR.  H.  BRAKK — Dear  Friend:  I  was  about  as  much  surprised  to 
receive  from  our  postmaster  a  line  by  your  hand  as  if  1  had  heard  that 
you  had  risen  from  the  dead.  For  years  it  has  been  reported  and  fully 
believed  that  you  and  your  family  were  massacred  by  Indians  soon  after 
leaving  this  place.  I  am  glad  to  learn  that  such  was  not  the  case. 

"  You  see  that  1  am  still  here.  Excelsior  does  not  prove  to  be  among 
the  rapidly-growing  places  of  our  State.  The  population  is  about  the 
same  as  when  you  left.  There  are  a  few  more  dwelling-houses,  and  of  a 
better  class  than  the  old  ones.  Some  of  the  old  ones  are  repaired,  and 
the  poorest  are  tenantless.  A  better  church  has  been  built. 

"Your  old  farm  is  unoccupied;  it  has  been  in  several  hands.  A  Mr. 
Booth,  living  in  New  York,  owns  it  now. 

"The  Gideons,  Latteruers,  Days,  Babcocks,  and  McGraths  are  still 
here.  The  principal  business  of  the  town  is  keeping  boarders,  as  Excel- 
sior is  much  patronized  as  a  watering  place.  Your  old  friend,  Dr.  Suell, 
with  his  family  lives  in  Minneapolis.  Morse,  the  blacksmith,  is  still 
here.  Charles  Galpin  is  in  the  dentistry  business. 

"My  salary  has  always  been  small.  I  have  succeeded  in  supporting 
my  family  by  engaging  in  farming.  Have  used  vacant  lots  and  reclaimed 
much  laud  near  the  lake-shore.  My  health  is  poor,  and  on  account  of 
my  throat  I  have  sometimes  to  desist  from  preaching.  I  still  have 
'Charley,'  the  horse  I  bought  from  you  in  1858.  He  is  getting  old,  but 
does  well,  though  he  now  only  eats  ground  feed. 

"You  left  some  deeds  in  my  care.  I  cared  for  the  lots  for  years,  and 
finally  bought  them  at  a  tax  sale.  There  is  no  redemption  law  in  Min- 
nesota. I  had  your  property  recorded  in  your  name,  and  paid  the  ex- 


210  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

penses  upon  it  for  you  until  I  believed  the  story  of  your  death.  I  have 
several  lots  that  cost  me  ten  dollars  apiece.  As  I  am  not  willing  to  hold 
your  property  since  I  have  learned  that  you  are  living,  I  now  make  you 
an  offer  of  twelve  dollars  each  for  the  deeds  in  fee  simple.  Please  let 
me  hear  from  you  at  once. 

"The  college  scheme  of  Mr.  Galpin  was  abandoned,  and  the  lots  re- 
verted to  their  original  owners. 

"Write  soon  about  yourself  and  family. 

"With  best  regards  to  you  and  yours, 

CHARLES  B.  SHELDON." 

As  soon  as  possible,  I  accepted  Mr.  Sheldon's  offer  and 
gave  him  a  warranty  deed  for  the  property.  Mr.  Sheldon 
sent  me  the  money,  and  we  corresponded  with  each  other 
for  many  years  afterward  with  pleasure.  His  letters  were 
like  glimpses,  to  me,  of  the  lovely  moonlit  lake,  the  grand, 
wind-swept  forests,  and  like  the  breath  of  the  invigorating 
breezes  of  Minnesota.  They  brought  vividly  before  me 
the  little  church,  the  kind  friends,  and  helped  me  to  be 
a  better  man,  living  not  only  for  this  world,  but  to  meet 
those  friends  in  the  life  beyond. 

A  great  calamity  fell  upon  us  during  the  summer  of 
1871.  My  daughter,  while  climbing  into  a  wagon,  twisted 
her  right  limb  and  slipped  her  knee-cap.  It  was  some 
time  before  her  quick  steps  flitted  through  the  house  and 
over  the  farm  as  usual,  and  fretting  made  her  anxious  and 
unhappy.  A  physician  came  and  put  the  bone  in  place, 
but,  a  terrible  storm  coming  up,  he  had  to  remain  over 
night  with  us.  When  his  bill  came,  it  included  the  item 
of  detention,  and  reckoned  up  to  twelve  dollars  and  thirty 
cents  for  one  visit.  It  was  the  only  time  I  ever  was 
charged  for  entertaining  a  man,  and  I  insisted  to  Mrs. 
Hrake  that  the  character  of  her  famous  cooking  ^:>s  Jlt 
stake,  and  that  her  hospitality  must  have  been  fearful  in 
the  extreme. 


HA  OK  TO    Till-:    A'.  I /,'!/.  211 

My  daughter,  about  the  time  she  recovered,  learned  of 
some  newly-found  relatives  in  the  State  of  Maine.  Her 
illness  had  made  her  anxious  to  visit  them,  and  although 
we  were  not  yet  able  to  afford  the  expense  of  so  costly  a 
trip,  her  happiness  was  our  greatest  concern,  and  we 
acquiesced  in  her  wishes.  This  pinched  us  so  closely  for 
money  that  my  land  was  sold  for  taxes.  But  crops,  de- 
spite the  chinch-bugs,  were  good,  and  when  my  corn  and 
rye  were  sold,  our  crop  of  native  hay  harvested,  the  splen- 
did potatoes  dug,  the  sorghum  worked  up  on  the  shares, 
we  were  far  from  being  unprepared  for  winter. 

I  had  decided  to  try  another  experiment  in  wintering 
stock ;  so  I  took  for  a  man  named  Frank  Meeker,  ten 
head  of  cattle  to  feed  until  spring.  It  was  a  wet  winter. 
Toward  spring  the  cattle  tramped  mud -holes  near  the 
creek,  and  would  sometimes  get  into  places  from  which  it 
took  much  effort  to  extricate  them.  I  lost  three  head  of 
stock,  and  Mr.  Meeker  one,  in  this  way.  Insisting  that 
his  stock  was  registered,  and  that,  despite  the  work  I  had 
done  to  bring  his  cattle  safely  througlj  the  winter,  the  loss 
of  this  one  was  my  fault,  I  had  to  lose  the  pay  for  all  of 
them.  Thus,  Kansas  cattle  involved  me  as  deeply  as  did 
those  from  Texas. 

In  February,  I  went  to  Council  Grove  on  business.  I 
was  to  pay  some  debts,  get  some  goods  and  return  that 
day ;  but  on  the  way  I  noticed  that  the  Neosho  river  near 
the  old  Mission  —  as  we  called  the  Indian  school-house  — 
was  nearly  to  the  wagon-bed,  and  I  hastened  home  as 
rapidly  as  possible  for  fear  of  being  delayed  in  crossing. 
Only  two  hours  had  elapsed  since  I  crossed  it  in  safety, 
but  the  water  had  risen  very  perceptibly  when  I  again 
reached  the  river.  Still  I  did  not  think  it  unsafe,  and 


212  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

drove  into  the  stream.  In  the  midst  of  the  rapidly  swell- 
ing current,  a  sudden  swirl  of  drifting  debris  struck  my 
wagon  and  forced  me  several  yards  down  the  flood.  The 
ponies  could  swim,  and  I  was  not  much  alarmed  until  the 
tongue  of  the  wagon  caught  in  a  stout  sapling.  I  climbed 
out  to  loosen  it,  and  the  current  forced  the  wagon-bed 
away  and  left  me  dancing  upon  the  running-gear.  The 
box  was  gone,  so  I  devoted  myself  to  saving  the  horses. 
The  traces  were  soon  loosened,  and  with  a  lunge  or  two 
the  animals  safely  reached  the  shore  nearest  home.  Just 
as  the  horses  started,  the  hind  wheels  of  the  wagon  were 
rapidly  turned  over,  and,  lying  upon  my  back  on  the  water, 
I  saw  a  wheel  coming  straight  at  my  devoted  head.  With 
all  my  strength,  I  raised  myself,  and  intercepted  the  blow 
by  catching  the  wheel  with  my  boot.  I  was  only  a  few 
minutes  after  the  wheel  passed  in  gaining  the  shore  I  had 
just  left,  but  by  this  time  my  bath  made  me  feel  as  if  I 
would  enjoy  a  little  friction  and  a  Turkish  towel.  It  was 
worse  than  a  cold  shower-bath  in  winter  to  wear  my  drip- 
ping garments,  and  it  was  with  much  comfort,  after  walk- 
ing a  mile  to  Reverend  William  Bradford's  house,  that  I 
donned  some  ministerial  garments.  It  was  the  first  time 
1  had  worn  them  since  the  days  of  my  boyish  efforts  in  the 
new  chapels  of  England,  and  I  would  never  have  believed 
they  could  again  be  so  comfortable.  My  own  clothes  re- 
sented this  partiality.  They  had  shared  my  immersion, 
and  now  they  really  "froze"*  to  me  despite  my  frantic  ef- 
forts to  discard  them. 

Kind  friends  cared  for  my  horses,  and  kind  friends  took 
me  acros.s  at  a  safer  crossing.  I  rode  one  of  the  half- 
drowned  ponies  home,  and  found  my  family  mourning  me 


HACK  TO    THE  FA  inf.  213 

as  dead,  having  heard  that  the  horses  had  reached  the 
bank  without  me,  and  that  I  was  lost  in  the  stream. 

In  the  spring  of  1872,  by  having  ten  acres  of  sod  broken 
on  my  farm,  I  found  my  land  under  cultivation  to  amount 
to  sixty  acres.  Having  learned  the  advantages  of  crop 
rotation,  I  decided  to  put  my  last  year's  corn  land  and  the 
new  ten  acres  in  spring  wheat.  When  the  stout  double- 
shovels  had  shoveled  in  the  wheat,  I  planted  ten  acres  of 
oats.  By  June  of  that  year,  all  of  the  minor  crops  were 
planted,  and  I  had  sixty  acres  of  as  promising  prospects 
for  grain  and  other  products  as  one  need  wish  to  see. 

But  the  seasons  of  Kansas  are  always  springing  new 
surprises  upon  the  people,  especially  the  farmers  of  the 
State.  There  was  much  rain  that  year,  and  although  crops 
were  good,  many  lost  much  produce  from  the  sudden  and 
constant  rainfall.  Often  our  large  log  house  was  full  of 
persons  who  could  not  cross  the  stream  until  the  waters 
subsided. 

A  sad  calamity  occurred  that  May,  at  the  selfsame  spot 
where  I  came  near  being  drowned.  A  young  married 
couple  named  Somers,  a  gentleman  named  Roberts,  and 
the  beautiful  and  accomplished  daughter  of  Judge  Hutfaker 
—  Miss  Laura  —  attempted  to  cross  this  stream  when  the 
current  was  very  swift.  In  sight  of  the  old  Mission 
where  her  father  had  taught  the  careless  Kaws,  Miss 
Huffaker  and  her  friends  were  caught  in  the  swelling 
flood  of  the  Neosho  river,  buried  under  the  overturned 
carriage  and  horses,  and  drowned.  So  well  known  as  the 
friend  of  the  Indian,  and  the  representative  of  good  gov- 
ernment, was  Judge  Huffaker,  that  not  only  Morris  county, 
but  the  State  of  Kansas,  sympathized  with  him  in  his  sad 
affliction.  Over  the  recovered  bodies  the  people  for  miles 


214  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

around  Council  Grove  gathered  and  dropped  tears  of  re- 
gret and  sympathy.  The  main  streams  of  Kansas  were 
then  bridged,  but  the  smaller  ones  were  often  dangerous, 
and  the  pioneers  of  Kansas  incurred  much  danger  and 
hardship  in  crossing  these  narrow,  deep  creeks  and  rivers, 
which  filled  so  rapidly  one  could  hardly  tell  whether  or 
not  it  was  safe  to  enter  them. 

I  had  always  been  greatly  interested  in  the  education 
of  the  youth  of  the  State,  and  at  this  time  and  for  several 
subsequent  years  I  served  as  clerk  of  our  school  district 
in  Neosho  township,  Morris  county,  Kansas.  Some  of  the 
most  pleasant  memories  of  my  life  cluster  around  the  edu- 
cational work.  I  well  remember  Isaac  T.  Goodnow,  the 
State  Superintendent  from  the  year  1861  until  INGI.  Dur- 
ing the  first  year  of  his  work,  he  traveled  over  the  sparsely- 
settled  State  by  team,  visiting  its  every  settled  county. 
Dr.  McVicar,  another  Superintendent,  was  also  a  valued 
friend,  and  one  to  whom  the  youth  of  Kansas  owe  much 
gratitude  for  the  splendid  work  he  did  for  the  schools  of 
the  State. 

My  experience  as  a  farmer  that  year,  despite  the  losses 
from  wet  weather,  was  very  satisfactory.  Oats  made  fifty, 
wheat  thirty  and  corn  seventy-five  bushels  to  the  acre. 
Millet,  buckwheat,  potatoes  and  other  crops  did  well  ;  and 
when  everything  was  marketed,  I  paid  oh*  six  hundred  dol- 
lars of  the  indebtedness  on  my  farm.  In  the  following 
spring,  I  was  also  able  to  redeem  my  land,  the  aggregate 
delinquent  tax  on  which  amounted  to  two  hundred  and 
live  dollar>,  and  to  pay  oil'  a  mortgage  and  its  interest  of 
four  hundred  and  seventy-live  dollars.  The  lifting  of  these 
debts  removed  a  heavy  load  from  our  minds,  and  made  us 


'/'<>   Tin-:  I<\\HM.  215 

feel  for  the  first  time  that  prosperity  had  at  last  paid  us  a 
visit. 

My  millet,  hay  and  wheat  were  harvested  and  my  corn 
was  too  far  along  for  us  to  fear  mishaps,  when  one  day  I 
called  to  my  wife : 

"  Lottie,  come  and  look  at  that  queer  cloud  !  " 

She  came  to  the  door. 

"  It  is  a  cloud  of  grasshoppers,"  she  answered.  "  See  ! 
they  are  drifting  down  like  green  flakes." 

Sure  enough  !  they  were  beginning  to  settle.  As  they 
came  nearer  the  ground,  they  darkened  the  sky  like  a 
storm-cloud,  and  made  a  noise  like  distant  thunder.  A 
little  later,  they  were  organized  into  a  devastating  army, 
destroying  every  living  thing  tender  enough  for  mastica- 
tion within  reach  of  their  voracious  jaws.  The  grasshop- 
pers were  more  indefatigable  than  the  sappers  and  miners 
during  a  siege,  or  the  soldiers  in  the  open  battle-field. 
They  worked  without  cessation.  I  went  out  late  at  night 
and  put  my  ear  to  a  stalk  of  tall  corn.  I  could  hear  them 
gnawing  away  in  the  darkness,  and  grieving,  I  suppose, 
that  owing  to  the  hardness  of  the  grain  they  could  only 
eat  the  husk.  When  they  had  eaten  up  everything  else, 
they  went  leisurely  to  work  and  consumed  the  winter 
wheat,  after  which  they  deposited  their  eggs  in  the  ground, 
and  went  into  winter  quarters  ready  for  developments  in 
the  spring. 

Talk  of  the  encroachment  of  a  Napoleon  Bonaparte  ! 
The  French  army  was  a  small  affair  compared  with  the 
legions  that  invaded  Kansas  in  1873.  If  we  could  only 
have  imitated  the  Russians  and  destroyed  our  Moscows 
before  these  savage  troops  quartered  in  our  Kremlins,  it 
would  have  been  more  satisfactory.  Abundant  rains  fell 


216  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

that  fall,  and  in  the  overflowing  of  rivers  and  creeks,  the 
eggs,  from  which  reinforcements  had  been  expected  by  the 
advance  army  of  grasshoppers,  were  swept  away. 

An  event  of  interest  to  the  entire  State  in  general  and 
to  Morris  county  in  particular,  occurred  in  1873.  The 
Kaw  or  Kansas  Indians,  our  native  tribe,  were  removed 
from  the  State.  The  Government  of  the  United  States  had 
long  promised  to  send  them  to  a  reservation  in  the  Indian 
Territory,  but  so  far  had  failed  to  do  so.  There  were  only 
about  two  hundred  of  this  once  large  tribe  left,  and  there 
was  very  little  sentiment  wasted  upon  them  when  they 
bade  farewell  to  their  long-time  home,  and  left  Kansas  for 
good. 

The  summer  of  1874  was  a  trying  time  for  Kansans.  A 
scorching  drouth  visited  the  State.  Crops  were  almost  to- 
tally destroyed,  and  in  the  autumn  the  grasshoppers  again 
paid  us  a  visit.  Everything  left  was  destroyed  by  them. 
They  seemed  to  really  enjoy  onions,  and  when,  to  save  my 
cabbage,  I  used  large  quantities  of  salt,  their  relish  for  that 
esculent  seemed  greatly  increased.  They  even  ate  the 
stumps  of  the  cabbage-stalks  into  the  ground.  Kansas 
grasshoppers  were  as  well  posted  on  relishes  as  those  of 
Minnesota. 

Christmas  Day  once  more  approached,  and  my  wife  sug- 
gested that  we  make  use  of  our  losses  by  eating  one  of  the 
fat  turkeys  which  had  become  enormous  in  size  from  the 
quantities  of  grasshoppers  it  had  devoured.  So  a  turkey 
dinner  was  prepared,  and  despite  pests,  drouth,  and  failure, 
we  gathered  with  some  dear  friends  around  a  board  laden 
with  the  good  cheer  no  one  knew  better  how  to  prepare 
than  Mrs.  Brake.  Prayers  were  read,  and  we  made  it  a 
real  anniversary  day.  Thank  God  for  Christmas  and  its 


HACK  TO    THE  FARM.  217 

blessedness !  Thank  Him,  too,  for  the  Christ  it  commem- 
orates, the  Saviour  who  though  our  "sins  are  as  scarlet 
makes  them  like  snow,"  and  whose  mercies  are  number- 
less. Yea,  thank  God  —  the  Giver  and  Taker  —  the  Cre- 
ator of  the  material  and  the  spiritual  worlds,  the  great 
Sharer  of  all  our  joys  and  the  Comforter  of  all  our  sor- 
rows. 

The  winter  passed  rapidly  away,  and  the  spring  of  1875 
approached.  There  was  much  snow,  and  everything  gave 
promise  of  an  early  and  a  fruitful  season.  The  farmers  of 
Kansas  began  with  good  heart  to  prepare  for  planting 
their  crops.  Should  the  precious  seed  fail  this  year  to 
reach  fruition,  starvation  doubtless  stared  many  in  the 
face.  There  was  much  distress  in  the  State,  and  in  the 
parts  where  the  most  damage  had  been  done,  meetings 
were  held,  and  aid  was  solicited  for  the  sufferers.  Several 
of  these  meetings  were  held  in  Council  Grove.  Commit- 
tees were  selected  to  secure  aid  from  the  East  by  writing 
to  friends,  and  giving  them  a  description  of  the  poverty 
and  suffering  among  certain  families  in  that  part  of  the 
State.  Many  volunteered  everywhere  to  do  this  work,  and 
the  result  was  that  barrels  of  provisions,  boxes  of  clothing 
and  hundreds  of  dollars  in  money  were  sent  into  Kansas 
for  the  relief  of  the  needy.  But  while  the  hearts  of  thou- 
sands were  opened  to  the  wants  of  the  drouth  sufferers, 
that  some  were  indifferent  or  doubtful  of  their  needs  will 
be  shown  by  the  following  letter : 

"  THORNDYKE  STATIOX,  MAINE,  March  26,  1875. 
44 Dear  Brother  and  Sister  Brake:  We  were  pleased  to  receive  your 
favor  of  the  16th  iust.  Epistolary  correspondence,  even  among  stran- 
gers, has  a  tendency  to  draw  into  a  closer  relationship  even  people  of 
different  nationalities.  In  perusing  your  letter  and  thinking  over  the 
suffering  of  men  and  animals,  the  great  waste  of  property,  the  exorbitant 

—15 


218  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

prices  charged  for  freight  to  the  sufferers,  almost  paralyze  belief  iu  the 
fatherhood  of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  man. 

"  I  am  in  my  seventieth  year,  and  cannot  do  much  by  way  of  business. 
Am  not  now  able  to  help  contribute  to  Kansas  relief.  But  I  tried  to  get 
up  a  fund  for  seed  wheat  for  your  community,  and  when  I  mentioned  it 
people  said  it  was  visionary  to  get  up  a  donation  party  for  people  three 
thousand  miles  away.  I  can  only  talk  the  matter  up,  hoping  that  Kan- 
sas will  soon  emerge  from  her  trouble. 

"  For  the  present,  farewell.  THOMAS  B.  HUSSEY. 

LIZZIE  K.  HUSSEY." 

It  was  pleasant  to  me  to  be  able  to  refuse  the  aid  offered 
me,  and  see  it  given  to  those  needing  it  worse  than  our- 
selves. I  had  seed  wheat  on  hand,  and  early  began  to 
get  my  land  planted  in  wheat,  corn,  and  other  crops.  My 
sheep  did  well  that  year;  some  of  the  fleeces  weighed 
twelve  to  fourteen  pounds.  The  weather  was  so  hot  that 
summer  that  two  of  my  men  fainted  and  had  to  be  carried 
out  of  the  harvest-field.  One  night,  wrhen  our  day's  work 
in  the  field  was  done,  we  sat  up  rather  late,  the  women 
chatting  in  the  house  and  the  men  smoking  outside  the 
door.  Later,  we  all  went  to  bed,  my  wife  and  daughter 
and  a  lady  friend  up  stairs,  and  the  men  below. 

About  daylight  I  was  awakened  by  a  rippling,  gurgling 
sound,  and,  rising  up  in  bed,  I  saw  water  running  under 
the  door  and  across  the  room.  Upon  opening  the  door, 
the  water  rushed  in  and  soon  rose  ankle-deep.  I  called 
the  harvesters,  but  they  did  not  get  up.  ••!)<>  you  want 
to  be  drowned  (  "  I  shouted,  for  I  did  not  know  how  deep 
it  might  get;  uif  you  do,  stay  where  you  are." 

"  We  thought  you  were  getting  us  out  a  little  too  early," 
said  one  of  the  men,  as  they  all  sprang  from  the  beds. 
"We'll  get  up,  you  bet  !  " 

In  ten  minutes  the  water,  still  rising,  was  a  foot  deep  in 
the  house.  The  women  stayed  up  stairs,  but  Lizzie  ran 


BACK    TO    Till':  FARM.  219 

down  and  gathered  some  of  her  chickens  into  barrels.  I 
found  my  swine  enjoying  a  good  boat-ride.  They  were 
swimming  about  in  their  big  troughs,  and  when  the  pens 
were  pulled  down,  and  they  were  allowed  to  seek  refuge 
wherever  they  could  find  it,  they  took  to  the  water  as  nat- 
urally as  ducks.  A  view  from  the  top  of  the  house  showed 
an  expanse  of  water  over  three  miles  in  circumference. 
The  streams  which  had  caused  the  overflow  were  evidently 
still  rising,  and  my  shocks  of  wheat  by  scores  were  desert- 
ing the  field.  Fences,  wood  and  other  loose  property  were 
keeping  them  company,  and  the  sun  was  shining  as  se- 
renely on  the  muddy  waters  of  the  landscape  as  if  nothing 
had  happened. 

We  had  no  fire ;  there  was  a  foot  of  water  in  the  fire- 
place ;  so  we  breakfasted  on  bread  and  bacon,  eggs  and 
milk,  and  by  way  of  variety  again  u  viewed  the  landscape 
o'er."  My  wife  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  a  log  near  the 
house,  and,  after  two  hours'  watching,  reported  the  water 
as  falling.  By  noon  we  could  get  out  of  the  house. 

Hot,  dry  weather  set  in,  and  by  the  assistance  of  hired 
hands  and  neighbors,  I  saved  most  of  my  wheat.  When 
threshed  it  brought  three  hundred  dollars. 

On  the  whole,  Morris  county  was  redeemed.  The  abun- 
dant rains,  the  well-soaked  soil,  made  the  crops  develop 
rapidly,  and  as  the  weather  was  dry  in  October  and  No- 
vember, they  were  well  garnered. 

The  weather  in  the  winter  of  1875-6  was  cold,  for  Kan- 
sas, the  thermometer  often  registering  ten  degrees  below 
zero ;  but  to  myself,  who  had  often  been  out  in  Minnesota 
weather  when  it  was  forty  and  fifty  degrees  below  zero,  it 
did  not  seem  so  very  cold.  I  had  planted  ten  acres  of  rye 


220  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

and  fifteen  of  winter  wheat,  and  had  increased  my  tillable 
land  to  seventy  acres. 

The  next  spring  I  secured  a  corn-planter,  and  soon  had 
my  corn  planted.  A  little  later  the  millet  was  sown,  har- 
rowed, and  rolled.  In  July  we  had  several  heavy  rain- 
storms, and  all  the  streams  were  badly  swollen.  The 
one  near  our  home  was  too  high  to  be  safely  crossed,  and 
for  three  days  and  nights  a  minister  named  Dearborn  was 
entertained  in  our  home,  until  the  waters  were  no  longer 
in  a  dangerous  condition  and  could  be  crossed  in  safety. 
Ministers  who  preached  Christ's  gospel,  physicians  who 
healed  the  sick,  teachers  who  taught  the  children,  all,  as 
Kansans,  had  a  serious  time  in  fulfilling  their  duties,  even 
as  late  as  1876. 

It  was  astonishing,  however,  the  small  amount  of  dam- 
age done  by  the  floods.  The  corn  would  bend,  and  some 
of  the  small  grain  would  be  carried  away,  but  the  weight 
of  the  remaining  grain  would  compensate  for  the  loss,  and 
the  corn  would  ripen  just  as  well.  Millions  of  chincli- 
bugs  drank  themselves  to  death,  too,  in  the  floods,  and 
were  spared  the  trouble  of  devouring  the  crops.  Dry 
weather  had  to  be  awaited  for  the  sowing  of  millet  ami 
other  late  crops,  but  the  extra  yield  more  than  compen- 
sated for  the  delay.  Even  prairie  hay  needs  to  be  allows  1 
to  seed  the  ground  and  strengthen  the  roots,  a  necessity  few 
observe,  and  the  wet  season  gave  the  grass  an  opportunity 
to  do  this,  so  that  the  future  yield  was  greatly  increased. 

In  October,  1876,  our  daughter,  who  had  been  visiting 
friends  in  the  East  for  ten  months,  returned  to  her  Kansas 
home.  She  had  made  the  journey  alone  with  true  Kansas 
pluck,  and  on  the  return  trip  had  stopped  in  Philadelphia, 
and  visited  the  great  Centennial  exhibition.  We  were  so 


BACK   TO    T11K   FARM.  221 

overjoyed  to  have  her  with  us  after  her  long  absence  that 
the  labors  of  harvest  seemed  wonderfully  lightened  by  the 
thought  that  at  any  time  we  could  look  into  her  pleasant 
face,  and  listen  to  her  cheery  voice. 

By  our  usual  anniversary  day,  the  work  for  the  year  was 
done.  On  the  farm,  corn  had  yielded  forty  bushels  to  the 
acre,  wheat  twenty,  rye  twenty-five.  Other  crops,  except 
millet,  were  fair,  and  we  had  the  finest  animals  in  the  fat- 
tening-pen  that  I  had  ever  seen.  So  we  had  an  abundant 
supply  of  hams  for  winter  use,  with  enough  for  sale  to  buy 
our  clothing  for  a  year.  At  the  beginning  of  the  new 
year,  although  we  had  no  boys,  and  must  depend  entirely 
upon  hired  help  for  assistance,  though  failure  of  crops, 
grasshoppers  and  many  other  calamities  had  visited  us, 
yet  with  other  Kansans,  our  heads  were  above  water,  our 
debts  were  decreasing,  and  our  health  as  a  family  was  ex- 
cellent. Yet,  as  I  have  attempted  to  show,  the  early  Kan- 
sas farmer,  who  broke  out  the  soil,  and  turned  the  prairie 
into  tillable  and  tilled  land,  had  no  easy  task.  We  could 
afford  to  buy  little  machinery,  and  the  unceasing  toil  and 
effort  told  on  us  as  the  years  stole  by  ;  but,  with  hundreds 
of  other  Kansas  farmers,  I  found  that  agriculture  paid, 
and  that  the  careful,  honest,  painstaking  tiller  of  the  soil 
need  never  give  a  note  which  when  due  he  would  be  un- 
able to  honor. 

January,  1877,  was  a  hard,  snowy  time,  but  February 
was  one  of  the  most  delightful  months  a  Kansas  winter 
has  produced.  In  March,  on  the  15th,  occurred  the  wed- 
ding of  our  only  child.  In  the  log  cabin  where  she  had 
passed  her  happy  youth,  a  Christian  minister  named  Rev- 
erend T.  Hutton  joined  her  hand  with  that  of  Newton  E. 
Fisher,  and  pronounced  the  sacred  words  that  made  them 


222  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

husband  and  wife.  When  the  supper  her  loving  mother 
had  prepared  was  over,  we  bade  our  darling  farewell. 
She  would  not  be  far  from  us,  but  to  say  that  we  missed 
this  girJ  who  had  been  the  crowning  blessing  of  our  lives, 
would  feebly  express  our  feelings.  We  vaguely  felt  that 
although  happily  and  prosperously  married  to  the  son  of 
our  early  benefactor,  yet  she  could  never  be  quite  the 
same  to  us  as  before  her  marriage. 

Ah  !  we  cannot  see  into  the  future.  The  time  came  after- 
wards, when  I  was  a  stricken,  widowed,  childless  mourner, 
that  Lizzie,  then  a  widow  with  two  lovely  children,  came 
back  to  me  to  be  the  stay  of  my  declining  years.  I  can- 
not even  think  what  life  would  be  without  the  happy  faces 
and  merry  voices  of  my  daughter's  children. 

The  year  1877  was  a  splendid  one  for  Kansas.  Abun- 
dant crops  were  raised,  and  people  who  had  judged  the 
State  by  the  drouth  of  1860,  or  the  barrenness  of  1S71. 
were  now  changing  their  opinion.  Immigration  into  Kan- 
sas was  rapid,  and  school-houses,  churches  and  beautiful 
homes  were  increasing  by  hundreds  and  thousands.  Rail- 
roads were  spreading  like  a  network  over  the  State,  and 
the  persons  who  had  most  striven  in  behalf  of  success  — 
the  farmers  of  Kansas  —  now  felt  themselves  upon  the 
highway  to  prosperity.  As  to  Morris  county,  the  removal 
of  the  Kaw  Indians,  and  the  placing  of  their  lands  upon 
the  market,  had  materially  added  to  the  development  of 
her  latent  resources  of  soil  and  climate.  That  delightful 
summer,  free  from  floods,  drouth,  or  pests,  will  always 
be  a  pleasant  Kansas  memory,  and  the  busy  scenes  pre- 
sented on  almost  every  farm,  when  new  bins  and  granaries 
had  to  be  built  for  the  abundant  crops,  will  never  be  for- 
gotten. 


To    Till-:    /-'.I /MA  223 

Time  rolled  away  so  swiftly  that  Christmas  was  upon 
us  ere  we  knew  it.  We  were  saddened  as  we  thought  of 
the  fact  that  we  were  alone.  My  dear  wife  and  myself 
were  thousands  of  miles  away  from  every  living  relative, 
and  our  adopted  daughter  was  no  longer  beside  our  hearth. 
But  we  were  not  forgotten.  First  there  came  a  letter  from 
Lottie's  dear  English  sister,  breathing  a  message  of  good- 
will from  the  land  of  our  youth  for  the  land  of  our  adop- 
tion, as  well  as  sweet  words  of  Christmas  congratulation 
for  ourselves.  Then  there  came  a  merry  party  of  young 
folks,  including  our  beloved  Lizzie  and  her  husband,  to 
spend  the  evening  with  us.  We  forgot  our  loneliness, 
and  I  heaped  the  old  chimney  with  logs  so  often  that  half 
a  cord  of  sturdy  oak  was  consumed  ere  the  gay  revelers 
left  us.  It  mattered  not  that  the  mistletoe  was  missing. 
Under  the  quaint  rafters  of  the  old  farm-house  the  young 
folks  played  merry  games,  and  enjoyed  the  kissing  quite 
as  well  when  in  mock  marriages  they  performed  oscula- 
tory  feats  by  way  of  ratification.  They  danced,  too.  The 
music  did  not  accord  very  well  with  the  time  kept  by  the 
tripping  feet  of  lads  and  lassies,  as  it  used  to  in  old  Lon- 
don, but  in  the  absence  of  a  parlor  organ,  a  good-natured 
fellow  whistled  the  tunes,  and  Lottie  and  I  enjoyed  the 
performance  more  than  any  other  couple  present.  Kansas 
people  do  not  need  the  environments  of  fashion  to  aid  in 
telling  the  "old,  old  story,"  nor  in  spending  an  evening 
of  pure,  unalloyed  enjoyment. 

After  long  years  of  toil  at  farming  I  decided  to  rent  my 
land  out  during  the  year  1878,  and  fill  a  contract  I  had 
taken  to  supply  a  brick  manufacturer  with  a  hundred  cords 
of  wood.  Accordingly,  I  rented  my  farm  on  the  shares  to 


224  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

two  brothers  named  Johnson,  who,  by  delaying  their  corn- 
planting  for  rain  until  too  late,  raised  nothing. 

The  next  year,  I  rented  my  farm  to  a  widow  who  ex- 
pected to  buy  it  when  she  received  a  pension  for  her  dead 
husband's  service  as  a  soldier.  She  gave  up  the  place  in 
a  short  time,  and  I  leased  it  for  three  years  to  a  man 
named  Simmonds,  for  half  the  peach  and  one-third  of  all 
other  crops.  Mr.  Simmonds  soon  sold  out  to  a  Mr.  Dent. 
Peaches  were  of  a  great  size  that  year,  and  were  very 
plentiful.  My  orchard  yielded  over  five  hundred  bushels. 

By  March,  1879,  my  wood  was  delivered,  and  the  four 
hundred  dollars  received  for  it  left  a  profit  of  two  hundred 
dollars  over  the  expense  of  the  work. 

I  now  had  one  of  the  most  productive  bottom  farms  in 
this  part  of  Kansas,  and  many  persons  sought  to  rent  the 
land  each  year.  The  remainder  of  the  uplands  of  the 
Kaw  reserve  was  now  on  the  market^  and  I  purchased 
eighty  acres  of  it,  and  added  the  same  to  my  farm.  It  re- 
quires time  to  secure  the  right  to  Government  lands,  and 
I  did  not  receive  the  patent  (signed  by  President  Cleve- 
land) until  1885.  But  I  was  now  the  owner  of  two  hun- 
dred and  forty  acres  of  very  rich  land. 

Despite  the  stringent  terms  concerning  (n>\  eminent 
lands,  many  clever  persons  secured  farms  at  little  trouble 
and  expense.  In  place  of  houses,  some  put  up  two 
crotches  about  twenty  feet  apart,  and  extended  a  long 
pole  from  one  to  the  other.  Up  to  this  "ridgepole,"  as 
they  called  it,  on  either  side  boards  were  slanted  at  an 
angle  of  some  forty-five  degrees,  and  boards  were  also  put. 
at  the  end.  The  "living"  done  in  such  houses  consisted 
<>t'  putting  a  fire  on  the  ground  over  which  coffee  was 


BACK   TO    THE   /-M /MA  225 

boiled.  With  cold  victuals  to  accompany  the  coffee,  an  oc- 
casional meal  was  taken  in  these  elegant  new  homes. 

Upon  the  witness's  testimony  depended  much  ;  he  al- 
ways asserted  that  a  good  frame  house  of  a  certain  size 
had  been  built  upon  the  claim.  When  I  learned  the  re- 
quirements, I  set  to  work  and  put  up  a  good  log  building 
upon  my  Kaw  purchase.  During  the  same  time  I  built  a 
good  frame  house  upon  my  farm,  and  my  wife  and  I 
moved  into  it,  leaving  a  tenant  in  our  old  one.  It  cost  us 
an  effort  to  leave  the  dear  old  dwelling  where  we  had  ex- 
perienced the  joys  and  sorrows  of  Kansas  life  since  1867, 
and  which  stood  upon  the  site  of  the  shanty  occupied  by 
pioneers  most  of  the  time  since  1861 ;  but  our  new  home 
was  comfortable,  and  we  were  soon  content  with  our  loca- 
tion. We  had  long  contemplated  building,  and  it  was 
pleasant  to  think  that  every  part  of  our  house,  even  to  the 
weather-boarding  and  shingles,  was  made  from  our  native 
timber. 

Corn  made  forty  bushels  to  the  acre  in  1880,  and  all  of 
my  renters  did  well  for  themselves  and  for  us. 

For  the  year  1881,  I  let  the  farm  to  an  enterprising 
bachelor  named  Crowley,  who  kept  bachelor's  hall  in  the 
old  log  house.  Excellent  results  followed  his  efforts  at 
farming,  and  I  gave  him  possession  of  my  new  home  and 
moved  with  my  wife  to  the  house  now  ready  on  the  Kaw 
land. 

A  well  was  dug,  a  pasture  fenced,  trees  set  out,  and  a 
garden  was  planted  with  vegetables  and  flowers.  We 
soon  found  ourselves  at  home  on  the  sunny  hillside,  and 
greatly  relieved  by  having  the  responsibility  of  the  larger 
farm  off  our  hands.  About  this  time,  a  man  named  Collier 
bought  one  of  my  eighties  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars. 


224:  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

two  brothers  named  Johnson,  who,  by  delaying  their  corn- 
planting  for  rain  until  too  late,  raised  nothing. 

The  next  year,  I  rented  my  farm  to  a  widow  who  ex- 
pected to  buy  it  when  she  received  a  pension  for  her  dead 
husband's  service  as  a  soldier.  She  gave  up  the  place  in 
a  short  time,  and  I  leased  it  for  three  years  to  a  man 
named  Simmonds,  for  half  the  peach  and  one-third  of  all 
other  crops.  Mr.  Simmonds  soon  sold  out  to  a  Mr.  Dent. 
Peaches  were  of  a  great  size  that  year,  and  were  very 
plentiful.  My  orchard  yielded  over  five  hundred  bushels. 

By  March,  1879,  my  wood  was  delivered,  and  the  four 
hundred  dollars  received  for  it  left  a  profit  of  two  hundred 
dollars  over  the  expense  of  the  work. 

I  now  had  one  of  the  most  productive  bottom  farms  in 
this  part  of  Kansas,  and  many  persons  sought  to  rent  the 
land  each  year.  The  remainder  of  the  uplands  of  the 
Kaw  reserve  was  now  on  the  market,  and  I  purchased 
eighty  acres  of  it,  and  added  the  same  to  my  farm.  It  re- 
quires time  to  secure  the  right  to  Government  lands,  and 
I  did  not  receive  the  patent  (signed  by  President  Cleve- 
land) until  1885.  But  I  was  now  the  owner  of  two  hun- 
dred and  forty  acres  of  very  rich  land. 

Despite  the  stringent  terms  concerning  Government 
lauds,  many  clever  persons  secured  farms  at  little  trouble 
and  expense.  In  place  of  houses,  some  put  up  two 
crotches  about  twenty  feet  apart,  and  extended  a  long 
]>ole  from  one  to  the  other.  Up  to  this  "ridgepole,"  as 
they  called  it,  on  either  side  boards  were  slanted  at  an 
angle  of  some  forty-five  degrees,  and  boards  were  also  put 
at  the  end.  The  "living"  done  in  such  houses  consisted 
of  putting  a  fire  on  the  ground  over  which  coffee  was 


BACK  TO    T1IK   I-\\UM.  225 

boiled.  With  cold  victuals  to  accompany  the  coffee,  an  oc- 
casional meal  was  taken  in  these  elegant  new  homes. 

Upon  the  witness's  testimony  depended  much  ;  he  al- 
ways asserted  that  a  good  frame  house  of  a  certain  size 
had  been  built  upon  the  claim.  When  I  learned  the  re- 
quirements, I  set  to  work  and  put  up  a  good  log  building 
upon  my  Kaw  purchase.  During  the  same  time  I  built  a 
good  frame  house  upon  my  farm,  and  my  wife  and  I 
moved  into  it,  leaving  a  tenant  in  our  old  one.  It  cost  us 
an  effort  to  leave  the  dear  old  dwelling  where  we  had  ex- 
perienced the  joys  and  sorrows  of  Kansas  life  since  1867, 
and  which  stood  upon  the  site  of  the  shanty  occupied  by 
pioneers  most  of  the  time  since  1861 ;  but  our  new  home 
was  comfortable,  and  we  were  soon  content  with  our  loca- 
tion. We  had  long  contemplated  building,  and  it  was 
pleasant  to  think  that  every  part  of  our  house,  even  to  the 
weather-boarding  and  shingles,  was  made  from  our  native 
timber. 

Corn  made  forty  bushels  to  the  acre  in  1880,  and  all  of 
my  renters  did  well  for  themselves  and  for  us. 

For  the  year  1881,  I  let  the  farm  to  an  enterprising 
bachelor  named  Crowley,  who  kept  bachelor's  hall  in  the 
old  log  house.  Excellent  results  followed  his  efforts  at 
farming,  and  I  gave  him  possession  of  my  new  home  and 
moved  with  my  wife  to  the  house  now  ready  on  the  Kaw 
land. 

A  well  was  dug,  a  pasture  fenced,  trees  set  out,  and  a 
garden  was  planted  with  vegetables  and  flowers.  We 
soon  found  ourselves  at  home  on  the  sunny  hillside,  and 
greatly  relieved  by  having  the  responsibility  of  the  larger 
farm  off  our  hands.  About  this  time,  a  man  named  Collier 
bought  one  of  my  eighties  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars. 


226  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

There  was  a  mortgage  on  the  whole  quarter-section,  and 
he  agreed  to  pay  it  off  as  part  of  the  price  paid  for  the 
land.  So  at  last  we  were  practically  free  from  debt,  and 
could  enjoy  life  without  adversity  constantly  staring  us  in 
the  face. 

Having  five  hundred  dollars  on  hand,  I  decided  to  add 
to  our  claim  dwelling  two  comfortable  rooms.  My  wife 
willingly  acquiesced  in  the  plan,  and  in  two  months  we 
had  two  nice  rooms,  plastered,  painted,  papered,  and  car- 
peted. I  papered  the  parlor,  and  as  it  was  my  first  attempt 
in  that  line,  so  I  declared  it  should  be  the  last.  If  the 
sisters  like  "Samantha"  want  to  climb  on  barrels  and 
boxes  to  paper  ceilings,  I  have  no  objections,  but  I  said 
solemnly  to  Lottie  as  I  finished  the  job  : 

"No  more  o'  that  an'  thou  lovest  me !  " 

By  1884,  we  had  a  beautiful  home,  with  trees,  shrubs, 
vines  and  flowers  in  abundance,  a  never-failing  well  of 
good  water,  twenty  acres  of  land  under  cultivation,  and 
everything  about  us  showing  that  the  blight  of  debt  rested 
no  longer  upon  our  efforts.  Our  garden  was  a  great  pleas- 
ure to  both  of  us.  Every  variety  of  vegetable  was  grown, 
and  few  visited  us  that  did  not  find  something  that  would 
tempt  the  appetite.  Besides  the  common  vegetables,  of 
which  we  always  raised  many,  we  were  fond  of  planting 
mushrooms,  egg-plant,  vegetable  oysters,  the  Jerusalem 
artichoke,  the  truffle  of  France,  cauliflowers,  and  celery. 
Some  of  our  friends  insisted  that  these  things  in  the  veg- 
etable world  corresponded  to  eels,  frogs  and  turtles  in  the 
animal  world,  and  with  them  were  not  fit  to  eat.  But 
under  the  witching  influence  of  Charlotte's  dainty  cookery, 
they  always  changed  their  minds. 

1  was  now  seventy  years  old,  but  with  a  double-shovel 


HACK   TO    Till-:    /«M/,M/.  227 

plow  I  put  in  four  acres  of  oats,  plowed  the  ground  and 
planted,  twenty  acres  of  corn.  The  care  of  the  garden, 
except  Mrs.  Brake's  flowers,  of  course  devolved  upon  me. 
I  also  had  four  cows  to  milk,  for,  although  an  excellent 
dairy  woman,  Lottie  would  never  milk  a  cow.  There 
were  two  things  Lizzie  had  always  done  better  than  her 
mother  —  milk  cows  and  ride  horses. 

But  we  were  aging,  and  I  decided  now  to  give  up  farm- 
ing and  remove  to  Council  Grove,  where  I  had  built  us  a 
house.  So,  when  Providence  seemed  to  favor  our  wishes 
and  a  man  offered  three  thousand  five  hundred  dollars 
for  the  farm,  I  accepted  his  offer.  In  October,  the  man 
gave  me  fifteen  hundred  dollars  cash,  and  two  notes  of  a 
thousand  dollars  each,  bearing  eight  per  cent,  interest. 
One  of  these  notes  was  paid  in  money  and  labor  at  the 
end  of  four  years,  and  the  other,  though  due  in  two,  was 
not  paid  for  eight  years ;  and  then  it  was  settled  in  a  court 
of  law,  where  I  lost  over  four  hundred  dollars. 

The  crops  did  not  pass  with  the  land,  and  I  did  not 
have  to  give  possession  until  March  1,  1885,  at  which  time 
I  was  to  receive  my  Kaw  land  patent.  There  were  no 
mortgages,  taxes  or  other  debts  to  settle,  and  we  had 
plenty  of  leisure  to  get  ready  for  our  new  residence. 
Looking  forward  to  this  time,  I  had  built  two  nice  houses 
in  Council  Grove,  and  as  one  of  them  was  unoccupied,  in 
November,  1884,  I  built  a  kitchen  to  it,  had  it  cleaned 
and  papered,  and  on  the  25th  of  the  month  we  moved 
into  the  house,  where  to-day  I  am  writing  the  simple  story 
of  my  life. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

OUR   EXPERIENCE   IN    COUNCIL   GROVE. 

As  my  principal  and  interest  came  in,  I  laid  the  money 
out  in  improvements  in  Council  Grove.  The  long  years 
spent  in  Morris  county,  the  many  warm  friends  about  us, 
and  our  unwillingness  to  form  new  ties  at  our  ages,  would 
have  made  it  impossible  for  us  to  invest  in  property  in  any 
other  Kansas  town  but  Council  Grove.  In  1886,  I  built  a 
third  residence,  and  my  now  widowed  daughter  left  her 
large  farm  to  tenants,  and  came  with  her  children  to  reside 
in  the  new  cottage. 

New  houses  were  then  being  built  in  Council  Grove,  and 
a  building  society  flourished  like  a  sunflower  in  Kansas  soil. 
I  built  two  residences,  each  costing  a  thousand  dollars,  and 
rented  them  for  ten  and  twelve  dollars  per  month.  My 
property  now  consisted  of  five  neat  cottages,  a  block  each 
away  from  our  two  railroads  —  the  Missouri,  Kansas  & 
Texas,  and  the  Missouri  Pacific.  I  again  built  another 
cottage  for  five  hundred  dollars,  and  up  to  the  crisis  of 
1893,  the  rents  of  these  residences  provided  for  all  of  our 
wants.  After  putting  some  improvements  upon  my  houses 
in  order  to  make  the  tenants  comfortable,  I  invested  my 
surplus  cash  in  fruit  trees  and  vines.  I  never  expected  to 
live  to  enjoy  their  fruitage,  but  I  believe  that  the  man  who 
plants  a  tree  is  to  some  extent  a  public  benefactor,  and  I 
took  the  greatest  pains  with  my  new  investment.  I  am 
happy  to  say  that  I  have  lived  to  enjoy  an  abundance  of 
grapes  and  cherries  from  that  planting,  and  the  vineyards 
and  trees  have  not  yet  reached  full  maturity. 

(228) 


OUR  EXPERIENCE  IN  COUNCIL  GROVK.  229 

Grief  came  to  me  in  her  saddest  form  in  the  year  1891, 
for  I  could  not  blind  my  eyes  to  the  fact  that  the  time 
when  I  must  be  separated  from  my  lifelong  companion 
was  near  at  hand.  She  was  taken  down  with  la  grippe, 
and  from  this  time  rapidly  failed  in  health  and  spirits. 
Partial  paralysis  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  walk,  and  I 
carried  her  in  my  arms  like  a  child.  Her  patience,  forti- 
tude and  unfailing  kindness  made  her  more  beloved  than 
ever,  and  her  care  the  solace  and  comfort  of  my  saddened 
life.  Toward  the  close  her  heart  sometimes  ceased  to  beat, 
and  once  she  lay  unconscious  for  many  hours.  Then  she 
would  rally  and  seem  better  for  days.  On  January  18, 
1893,  I  carried  her  into  the  dining-room  for  the  last  time. 
In  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  her  physicians  —  Doctors  Brad- 
ford and  Crawford  —  were  hastily  summoned;  my  wife, 
my  brave,  true  darling,  was  dying !  After  hours  of  uncon- 
sciousness, she  recovered,  arid  spoke  in  her  old  sweet  tones, 
asking  for  Charlie  —  her  grandson.  After  her  voice  failed, 
her  eyes  seemed  to  brighten.  She  motioned  for  me  to  sit 
where  she  could  look  into  my  face,  and  seemed  perfectly 
conscious  until  the  last.  On  the  morning  of  January  20, 
in  the  arms  of  her  loving  daughter,  with  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  my  face,  one  of  the  purest  of  mortal  spirits  passed 
from  earth  to  be  with  the  one  Lord  and  His  Father  in 
whom  she  implicitly  trusted.  Her  last  words  to  me  were : 

"May  thy  life,  from  errors  free, 
Be  a  long  bright  day  to  thee ; 
And  at  last,  when  wearied  grown 
Of  the  joys  which  thou  hast  known, 
And  thy  spirit  sinks  to  rest, 
May  angels  guard  thee  to  the  blest, 
Where  we  '11  meet  forevermore, 
Freed  from  all  the  toils  of  yore." 


230  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

January  22,  1893,  her  dear  remains  were  laid  to  rest  in 
Greenwood  cemetery,  Morris  county,  Kansas. 

What  better  evidence  can  we  have  of  a  higher  life  than 
the  calmness  with  which  the  good  embrace  death  ?  Once 
a  soul  is  knit  to  that  invisible  world  by  the  strong  tie  of 
an  affection  which  bridges  the  gulf  separating  this  life  and 
the  life  beyond,  nothing  can  shake  the  faith  of  the  one 
who  waits  in  the  immortality  enjoyed  by  the  one  who 
watches.  The  certainty  of  our  spiritual  nature,  the  long- 
ing for  its  full  development,  the  knowledge  that  it  can 
only  be  so  developed  by  immortality,  intensifies  our  faith, 
our  love,  our  hope,  into  a  climax  that  only  culminates  when 
the  angel  of  death  releases  us  from  a  world  of  which  we 
are  long-time  weary.  Ah,  Lottie !  the  forty-seven  years 
spent  together  on  this  earth  are  mere  points  of  time  in  the 
great  circle  of  eternity  which  we  shall  together  enjoy  when 
you  come  to  escort  me  to  the  life  beyond  the  stars. 

As  I  write  these  words,  my  heart  thrills  with  gratitude 
at  the  thought  that  although  sometimes  I  have  fallen  into 
unbelief  or  have  grown  lukewarm  in  the  cause  of  my  Mas- 
ter, yet  He  has  spared  me  at  this  great  age  to  testify  to 
His  goodness  and  mercy  toward  men  and  nations.  Amidst 
all  the  griefs,  the  trials  and  conflicts  of  this  life,  I  have 
never  doubted  but  that  the  time  would  come  when  the 
knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ  would  cover  the  earth  "as  the 
waters  shall  cover  the  sea."  As  to  the  certainty  of  an  In- 
finite Creator,  an  acquaintance  with  many  different  Indian 
tribes  has  convinced  me  that  the  lowest  creature  recognixes 
the  truth  of  His  existence  and  power.  I  am  pei-snack'*! 
from  a  study  of  man,  especially  of  my  own  heart,  that 
there  is  a  law  governing  man,  as  well  as  nature,  and  that 


OUR  A' X I > I<: II I KNCE  IN  CO UNCIL  G If(H' /•:.  231 

if  this  be  true,  this  law  or  first  cause  which  man  calls  God 
also  governs  the  soul  or  what  is  best  in  man. 

If  this  be  true,  we  could  never  understand  Him  without 
some  one  to  reveal  Him  to  us.  This  revelation,  His  divine 
Son  Jesus  Christ  has  made.  Were  we  not  a  part  of  the 
Creator's  nature  and  attributes,  we  would  not  have  been 
worthy  of  such  a  sacrifice  as  was  offered  upon  Calvary.  I 
rejoice  in  the  Sonship  of  Christ,  who  as  my  brother  lifts 
me  to  an  heirship  with  Him,  and  thus  makes  possible  a 
future  meeting  with  my  beloved. 

One  who  has  failed  to  experience  a  similar  trial  cannot 
understand  the  loneliness  of  solitude  unshared  for  the  first 
time  in  life.  But  kind  friends  helped  me  to  bear  the  bur- 
dens of  this  time,  nursed  me  back  to  health  when  I  gave 
way  to  a  protracted  illness,  and  after  awhile  I  could  stand 
up  once  more  and  look  the  world  in  the  face. 

When  I  found  myself  entirely  alone,  I  devoted  my 
time  to  opening  up  a  correspondence  with  my  English 
relatives.  My  own  communications,  as  well  as  those  of  my 
brothers  and  sisters,  had  miscarried  so  often  that  we  had 
finally  lost  a  knowledge  of  each  other's  whereabouts.  A 
card  to  a  cousin  at  Sherborne,  Dorset  county,  England, 
brought  me  an  answer  concerning  many  members  of  my 
family.  I  was  surprised  to  learn  that  I  had  over  fifty 
near  relatives  still  living  in  England.  But  still  more  sur- 
prised that  these  were  all  on  one  side  of  the  family,  and 
that  of  my  grandfather's  family  the  only  descendants  left 
were  four  cousins  and  myself.  I  attribute  my  advantage 
in  longevity  over  my  relatives  to  the  activity  of  my  nature 
and  the  constant  change  incident  to  a  pioneer's  life. 

Many  invitations  to  visit  England  reached  me,  and  I 
fully  purposed  going,  when  I  was  stricken  down  with  la 


232  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

grippe,  and  that  highly  fashionable  disease  unfitted  me  for 
an  ocean  voyage.  Then  came  the  crisis  of  1893,  and  so 
impossible  was  it  to  collect  indebtedness,  rents,  or  interest, 
that  I  was  compelled  for  the  time  to  abandon  the  trip  to 
Europe.  I  had  hoped,  for  my  daughter's  sake,  to  learn 
something  of  the  piece  of  land  deeded  to  our  family  by 
the  benevolent  Earl  Digby,  but  failed  to  do  so. 

Through  all  the  years  since  leaving  Topeka,  I -had  not 
united  with  any  church.  I  was  no  bigot,  and  really  en- 
joyed every  form  of  worship;  yet  the  beautiful  ritual  of 
the  Episcopal  church  had  been  my  ideal,  and  we  were  too 
few  in  number  to  have  a  church  of  that  denomination  in 
Council  Grove.  But,  believing  it  my  duty  to  be  connected 
with  some  individual  church,  I  decided  to  identify  myself 
with  the  one  in  which  I  was  baptized  as  an  infant,  and  to 
which  my  parents  then  belonged  —  the  Congregational 
church.  I  did  so,  and  am  still  a  member  of  that  society. 

In  May,  1894,  the  Ministerial  Union  was  held  in  Em- 
poria,  Kansas,  and,  with  many  others  interested  in  Chris- 
tian work,  I  visited  the  city  and  attended  the  meetings. 
I  had  seen  Einporia  in  1861  ;  it  was  then  only  a  village, 
lately  planned  and  laid  out  by  Preston  B.  Plumb  —  after- 
wards United  States  Senator  from  Kansas.  Thirty-three 
years  had  made  a  great  change  in  Senator  Plumb's  city. 
As  I  drove  over  it  in  a  friend's  carriage,  I  saw  the  spires 
of  between  twenty  and  thirty  churches ;  school-houses  of 
beautiful  and  modern  design,  hundreds  of  magnificent 
homes,  a  splendid  college  building,  and  the  State  Normal 
School.  This  school  is  justly  the  pride  of  the  State,  and 
with  its  two  sisters  —  the  Agricultural  College  at  Man- 
hattan and  the  State  University  at  Lawrence  —  forms  one 


OUR  EXPERIENCE  IN  COUNCIL  (!R()  VE.  233 

of  the  grandest  systems  for  higher  education  possible  to 
any  State. 

President  A.  R.  Taylor,  that  u  prince  of  educators,"  was, 
and  still  is,  at  the  head  of  this  institution  ;  his  pupils  num- 
bered over  thirteen  hundred,  and  since  then  the  number 
has  increased  to  almost  fifteen  hundred.  Long  may  this 
noble,  Christian  gentleman  remain  at  the  head  of  the 
Normal  work  for  teachers  in  this  great  State. 

In  this  visit  I  met  a  gentleman  from  Wabaunsee  who 
was  born  in  Sherborne,  England,  and  we  had  a  very  pleas- 
ant chat  together. 

I  had  not  been  able  to  visit  great  meetings  very  often, 
and  this  one  so  filled  me  with  enthusiasm  that  I  decided 
to  accept  the  invitation  to  attend  the  Kansas  Christian  En- 
deavor Convention,  in  May  of  the  same  year.  I  had  a 
curiosity,  too,  to  see  the  Capital  City,  which  I  had  not  vis- 
ited since  1863.  So  I  accepted  Honorable  T.  F.  Doran's 
invitation  of  hospitality,  and  spent  a  few  days  in  his  To- 
peka  home.  My  granddaughter  —  Laura  —  was  a  delegate 
to  the  convention  from  the  Christian  church  in  Council 
Grove,  and  of  course,  with  her  mother,  accompanied  me. 
Through  Mr.  Doran's  kindness,  we  visited  the  Kansas 
capitol  building,  the  churches,  colleges,  asylums,  and  many 
other  interesting  places. 

When  I  took  my  family  to  Topeka  in  1863,  in  order  that 
my  daughter  might  have  a  year  in  college,  the  place  could 
hardly  have  been  called  a  city.  Now,  as  the  electric  cars 
whirled  us  about  under  the  electric  lights,  and  glancing 
from  the  wide,  paved  avenues  and  streets  to  the  splendid 
hotels,  homes  and  public  buildings,  I  took  in  the  full  sig- 
nificance of  the  fact  that  I  was  in  a  great  modern  city  ;  I 
was  lost  in  astonishment.  My  mind  went  back  to  the  time 


—16 


234  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

when  I  could  well  remember  that  not  even  railroads  were 
in  existence.  Modern  progress  is  indeed  remarkable. 

Perhaps  nothing  was  to  me  so  enjoyable  as  the  renewal 
of  acquaintance  with  my  old  friend,  Dr.  Peter  McVicar, 
President  of  Wash  burn  College.  During  the  long  years 
since  1864,  I  had  not  seen  him.  When  the  excellent  lec- 
ture he  gave  before  the  Endeavorers  was  over,  I  visited 
him  at  his  house,  and  presented  him  with  some  files  of  his 
educational  journal  sent  to  me  when  I  was  a  district  clerk 
in  Morris  county  and  he  was  State  Superintendent  of  Pub- 
lic Instruction.  Our  mutual  pleasure  may  be  imagined  at 
thus  being  spared  in  old  age  to  renew  our  former  ac- 
quaintance. 

Holbrook  Hall,  the  Washburn  College  library,  greatly 
interested  me.  Both  sexes  are  admitted  to  the  reading- 
rooms,  and  there  is  provided  a  well-arranged  library  of  six 
thousand  volumes,  with  the  leading  periodicals,  free  to  all 
visitors. 

My  daughter  was  anxious  to  find  her  school  building  of 
1863,  and  after  much  inquiry  learned  that  it  was  now  the 
residence  of  Bishop  Thomas,  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
diocese.  We  also  found  our  old  home  —  now  badly  shaken 
and  decayed  —  and  Lizzie  was  delighted  to  find  the  tree 
where  she  had  hidden  her  bonnet  during  the  Quantrell 
raid  scare  in  1863.  What  she  then  supposed  the  guerrilla 
leader  would  want  with  a  little  girl's  bonnet,  is  beyond  my 
comprehension. 

In  1894,  occurred  the  great  railroad  strike.  The  Amer- 
ican Railway  Union  entered  into  a  sympathetic  strike 
against  the  Pullman  Palace  Car  Company  of  Chicago,  and 
the  terrible  results  of  this  strike  are  beyond  comprehen- 
sion. With  the  commerce  of  the  country  "tied,"  hundreds 


0  UR  EXPERIENCE  IN  CO  UNCl  L  <i  /,'  n  v  /•;.  935 

out  of  employment,  and  the  suffering  to  both  capitalists 
and  laborers  extreme,  there  followed  a  severe  drouth,  and 
the  most  terrible  hot  winds  known  in  Kansas  and  the  west 
for  years. 

In  four  days'  time  the  scorching  blast  had  destroyed  the 
prospects  for  crops,  and  the  fate  of  the  strike  sufferers  was 
sealed.  Products  would  be  higher  than  ever,  money  still 
as  scarce,  and  all  classes  would  have  to  bear  their  part  of 
the  calamity.  Farmers  raised  but  little  ;  for  example,  one 
farmer  who  had  planted  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
acres  raised  no  ears  of  corn  whatever  upon  the  stalks  of 
fodder,  and  the  latter  was  of  very  poor  quality. 

The  year  1895  partially  atoned  for  the  poor  crops  of  the 
previous  year,  and  prosperity  is  beginning  once  more  to 
smile  upon  Kansas.  Morris  county  has  suffered  in  com- 
mon with  all  of  the  other  counties  of  the  State,  but  she  is 
emerging  from  her  distress,  and  peace  and  prosperity  are 
holding  out  to  her  rich  promises  of  future  success. 

In  1861,  when  I  first  settled  in  Kansas,  nearly  every 
person  was  sick.  Distress  was  common,  and  constant  toil 
and  effort  were  necessary  to  sustain  life.  The  climate  told 
on  every  person,  and  many  became  discouraged  and  aban- 
doned their  pioneer  homes.  As  years  went  by,  destructive 
prairie  fires,  which  often  destroyed  miles  of  fencing  and 
tons  of  precious  hay,  swept  over  the  country.  We  were 
not  safe  from  this  evil  for  years,  although  the  herd  law, 
which  prevented  the  turning  out  of  stock,  helped  mitigate 
its  effects  by  doing  away  with  fences.  -  Grasshoppers, 
drouths,  storms,  war,  have  all  visited  Kansas,  and  in  them 
Morris  county  has  borne  her  share;  but  I  have  lived  to 
see  thrift  and  courage  conquer  all  obstacles,  the  climate 
become  healthful,  and  our  beautiful  prairies  teeming  with 


236  ON  TWO   CONTINENTS. 

thousands  of  cultured  people  living  in  homes  of  beauty 
and  comfort. 

Council  Grove,  the  capital  of  Morris  county,  although 
not  exhibiting  the  marked  growth  of  many  Kansas  towns, 
has  nothing  in  her  development  for  which  her  citizens  need 
blush. 

In  1859,  when  I  first  saw  this  settlement  far  out  upon 
the  "desert,"  Indians,  cowboys  and  traders  were  its  visit- 
ors, only  a  few  daring  men  its  actual  settlers,  and  the 
prospects  for  its  future  entirely  dependent  upon  its  useful- 
ness to  the  Santa  Fe  trail  and  trade.  In  1861,  when  I 
saw  the  place  again,  it  was  yet  a  mere  village.  The  mail 
service  still  started  for  the  west  from  this  point;  however, 
a  store  and  hotel  and  several  other  buildings  gave  promise 
of  future  growth,  and  the  town  was  yet  a  rendezvous  for 
traders  and  travelers  who  were  crossing  the  plains.  Junc- 
tion City  and  Emporia  soon  rivaled  Council  Grove,  the 
first  securing  the  mail  service,  the  second  the  Santa  Fe 
Railroad. 

Despite  all  this,  the  town  has  grown  with  a  steady,  per- 
manent growth.  Well-to-do  farmers  and  stock-raisers  sur- 
round it,  and  energetic,  honorable  people  dwell  within  it. 
Saloons  are  as  far  away  from  Council  Grove,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  as  the  eastern  State  line,  and  the  youth  of  the  city 
have  every  advantage  in  school  and  church  facilities.  Six 
denominations  —  Congregational,  Presbyterian,  Christian, 
Methodist,  Southern  Methodist,  and  Baptist  —  hold  services 
each  Sunday,  and  over  six  hundred  school  children  are 
gathered  in  our  city  school-rooms  under  the  care  of  excel- 
lent teachers.  A  good  high  school  and  library  add  to  the 
interest  and  usefulness  of  the  educational  work  in  Council 
Grove. 


OUR  EXPERIENCE  IN  COUNCIL  GROVE.  237 

The  Missouri  Pacific  Railroad  has  a  good  round-house 
in  the  town,  and  the  Missouri,  Kansas  &  Texas  has  a  new, 
well-built  and  commodious  depot.  The  pay-roll  of  these 
two  roads  in  Council  Grove  is  about  ten  thousand  dollars 
per  month.  Good  mills  and  an  elevator  furnish  employ- 
ment to  many  men.  An  elegant  opera  house,  imposing 
bank  buildings,  halls  for  all  of  the  benevolent  societies, 
grace  the  city,  and  hundreds  of  pleasant  homes,  surrounded 
with  beautiful  lawns  fragrant  each  summer  with  vines  and 
shrubbery,  testify  to  the  beauty-loving  spirit  of  the  citi- 
zens. 

One  of  the  oldest  and  fairest  of  Kansas  towns,  Council 
Grove  has  before  her  a  future  whose  prosperity  can  only 
exceed  the  interest  of  her  history  in  the  past. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

CONCLUSION. 

As  I  come  to  the  concluding  chapter  of  my  long  life,  it 
may  be  asked  what  is  my  political  belief?  I  cannot  reply 
without  mentioning  the  differences  of  opinion  concerning 
political  rights  between  this  country  and  England,  my 
native  land,  where  a  property  qualification  is  necessary. 
When  I  left  Great  Britain,  in  1847,  I  had  never  owned 
property  enough  to  allow  me  the  privilege  of  voting,  or  in 
any  way  helping  to  control  or  influence  the  laws  by  which 
I  was  governed.  My  interest  in  politics  consisted  in  loy- 
alty to  the  gracious  Victoria  and  love  for  our  common 
realm.  I  was  entirely  ignorant  of  many  of  the  laws  of  the 
land,  and  felt  little  inclination  to  investigate  them.  In 
1851,  when  I  became  the  owner  of  thirteen  acres  of  land 
on  Long  Island,  I  decided  it  was  time  to  take  an  interest 
in  the  politics  of  my  adopted  country.  I  was  so  entirely 
ignorantTthat  I  was  surprised  to  learn  that  I  must  take  out 
papers  declaring  my  intention  to  become  a  citizen  of  the 
United  States,  forswear  my  allegiance  to  my  sovereign, 
and  take  oath  to  support  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States. 

I  first  voted  in  Minnesota,  and  as  I  had  made  no  study 
of  the  subject,  I  voted  as  a  sleek-tongued  politician  near  me 
advised — for  James  Buchanan.  The  death  of  President 
Lincoln  first  roused  me  to  examine  the  principles  of  the 
political  parties  about  me,  and  after  careful  examination 
and  mature  deliberation,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
Republican  party  advocated  the  principles  in  which  Ameri- 

(238) 


CONCLUSION.  239 

cans  should  believe,  and  from  that  time  to  the  present  have 
voted  the  Republican  ticket. 

My  experience  in  this  matter  has  forced  me  to  the  con- 
viction that  foreigners  need  to  be  educated  as  well  as  to 
be  shaken  loose  from  their  old-world  ideas  of  politics,  be- 
fore they  should  vote  in  this  country.  An  Englishman 
coming  to  America  who  never  had  voted,  living  here  sev- 
eral years  without  political  privilege,  my  vote  was  at  once 
eagerly  sought  when  slavery  hung  in  the  balance.  I  was 
very  angry,  too,  when  some  persons  challenged  my  first 
vote.  I  said  : 

"I  am  entitled  to  more  respect  than  you,  for  I  have 
adopted  this  Government  from  choice,  while  you  were 
born  here  and  are  Americans  from  necessity." 

But  I  lived  to  see  the  time  when  I  was  glad  that  the 
friends  of  the  negro  challenged  my  vote.  I  have  been 
staunch  to  my  adopted  land,  and  have  truly  learned  to  love 
her  better  than  the  land  of  my  birth,  for  I  am,  and  have 
been  for  years,  in  favor  of  the  protection  of  American  in- 
dustries and  American  interests. 

The  rights  of  Americans  as  contrasted  with  those  of 
Englishmen  are  striking.  Not  only  can  a  man  vote  in  the 
United  States,  thus  helping  to  make  the  laws,  but  he  can 
hold  office  without  being  a  property-holder.  Poverty  can- 
not grind  him  into  political  serfdom.  In  England,  the 
opposite  is  true. 

Again,  in  America  men  are  not  imprisoned  for  debt ; 
while  in  England,  even  when  "whitewashed"  —as  freeing 
a  man  from  debt  is  there  called  —  when  he  leaves  the  walls 
of  the  "whitewashing"  establishment  and  seeks  a  home  in 
new  lands,  where  he  stands  some  opportunity  of  beginning 
life  under  more  favorable  circumstances,  he  is  liable  to 
arrest.  I  once  sent  money  for  passage  across  the  Atlantic 


240  ON  TWO  CONTINENTS. 

to  a  relative  who  had  unfortunately  a  small  debt  against 
him.  His  ship  was  stopped  by  officers  with  a  search  war- 
rant; the  cry  of  "thief"  sounded  through  the  ship,  and 
the  man  was  taken  like  a  malefactor  from  his  friends, 
forced  into  the  officers'  boat,  and,  heavily  ironed,  carried 
to  Portsmouth  and  lodged  in  jail. 

For  myself,  the  past  has  gone,  never  to  return.  Age 
will  soon  prevent  me  from  taking  part  in  the  affairs  of 
county  or  State.  But  even  as  I  rejoice  in  the  knowledge 
of  many  superior  advantages  possessed  by  this  country 
over  my  native  land,  my  constant  prayer  is  that  these 
United  States  may  never  fall  into  the  condition  of  low 
wages  and  poor  living  which  characterize  the  United 
Kingdom.  If  times  seem  dull  in  America,  recent  letters 
from  England  assure  me  that  it  is  worse  there,  and  that 
the  condition  of  affairs  facing  English  laborers  is  truly 
appalling. 

Many  have  been  the  changes  since  I  first  opened  my 
eyes  to  the  light  in  my  old  English  home.  Steam  and 
electricity  have  done  wonders  for  the  material  world. 
Man  has  developed  as  a  spiritual  being.  The  Gospel  of 
Christ  has  reached  even  the  far-off  heathen  isles.  The 
chains  of  slavery  have  been  flung  off  by  every  civilized 
nation.  The  principles  of  purity  and  peace  are  being  pro- 
mulgated. Armenia  has  awakened  the  slumbering  sym- 
pathy of  humanity.  Cuba  is  throwing  off  her  chains. 
The  twentieth  century  will  witness  an  awakened  humanity, 
a  new  era  of  world-wide  peace  and  prosperity.  May 
America  and  England  —  the  two  great  nations  that  are 
united  by  a  common  language  and  religion  —  recognize 
not  only  the  Edisons  and  Tyndalls,  the  Lincolns  and  Glad- 
stones who  have  aided  in  this  work,  but  the  hearts  of  the 
common  people  on  each  side  of  the  Atlantic. 


